Scene: A little bakery near our house that makes amazing brownies. The brownies cost $3 apiece, which seems high to me, but if you use good ingredients - butter, not cheap fat, the good chocolate - then a brownie is not cheap to make.
I walk in. I am fashionably dressed in gym pants, a sweatshirt, and a fleece vest that has managed to remain cat-hair free, although how I managed that in our house, I have no idea. I am also wearing my snow boots because it is cold and snowy and icy and now there is a layer of rain on top of the ice and every step carries with it the risk of death or a broken ankle, both of which would be really expensive. And if I broke my ankle, I wouldn't be able to exercise, not that I like exercising, but I like eating, so I would continue to eat but wouldn't get any exercise and then the only clothes I could wear would be those nasty polyester pants with the elastic waist, the likes of which I thought I had said goodbye to when I was in 9th grade and started wearing jeans.
So. I look crummy but it is Sunday morning and I haven't showered because 1. It is Sunday and 2. I had to return the carpet water sucker to the hardware store before noon. Why do I need a carpet water sucker in the winter, you ask?
Because even though we have had bitterly cold temperatures, we have also had rain and the rain didn't soak into the ground. Instead, it seeped into our basement into the 20% of the basement that is carpeted and not into the 80% that is not.
So Friday night, Primo walked downstairs while I was sitting on the sofa watching "The Mindy Project" (love her, although I am not so sure that the Lutherans are pleased that one of their ministers is being portrayed as someone who jumps into bed before marriage). He was in bare feet, for some reason. Bare feet, even though it is freezing cold. We don't keep the temperature very high in our house because most of the heat goes out the walls anyhow. Old houses are cool in many ways - wait! I didn't even intend that! They are neat and they are cold. No insulation.
When you are wearing Fluffy Socks and slippers, you don't feel cold, wet carpet. But when your feet are bare, you do. Primo noticed the carpet was wet. Surprisingly, there was almost no drama, which made me want to ask, "Who are you and what have you done to my husband?" But I didn't. I was just grateful that he noticed the carpet was wet, diagnosed the problem, came up with the solution (I went to the hardware store yesterday morning to get the carpet sucker thing), and went on about his business.
I got the carpet sucker, Primo sucked the water out of the carpet, and I returned the carpet sucker this morning. On the way home from the hardware store, I passed the bakery. It was open, which was a clear Sign from Above that I was meant to stop in for a brownie.
Scene continued: There is only one brownie left in the display case. There is a man carrying a baby ahead of me and a little girl. I assume the little girl is with the man, but after he pays and steps away from the counter, the little girl stays. A woman walks up behind me.
Woman [to little girl]: What do you want, sweetie?
Me: Oh! Are you next?
Woman: Well...
Me: Was she holding your place? I guess you're next.
Woman: Well ---
Me: Technically, you're next.
Woman: I don't know--
Me: Did you want the brownie?
Woman: No.
Me: Oh good. Because my husband's ex-wife is dying and he really needs a brownie. But I was so torn - you were next but what if you wanted the brownie? There's only one. Technically, it should have been yours. But I really need that brownie.
Woman: I don't want the brownie.
Me: And all I can think of is, "If she was going to die anyhow, why didn't she die before the alimony was done?" Which I know makes me a horrible person.
Woman: What?
Me: My husband is really upset because he is very close to his stepdaughters and of course they are really sad right now. And he doesn't know if he can go to the funeral because it would be a lot of travel to arrange in a really short time and he has to go out of town for work next week anyhow.
[Primo's stepdaughters, Laura and Kate, are lovely and I don't want anything to happen to make them said, which adds even more to my guilt about thinking what I thought about the alimony and Isabel's death. Really what I wanted was for Isabel to remarry. That would have ended the alimony and she would - one hopes - have been happy. That was what I really wanted. Really! I didn't want her to die. If I am going to wish people to death, there are others way ahead - waaaaaaay ahead of Isabel - on the list. She is not on the list at all. She did nothing to bother me other than uninvite Primo to Kate's wedding. As far as ex-wives go, she could have been a lot worse. All she did was cost Primo money - but she made almost no emotional demands on him, unlike you know who.]
[Primo loves those girls. On a facebook thread about Isabel, Isabel's first ex-husband, the father of Laura and Kate, thanked Primo for being such a good stepfather to the girls. The chain started out with the first ex saying, "Even though Isabel and I went our separate ways, we shared being parents to 2 wonderful daughters Lara and Kate. Love you all."
Primo responded, "First ex, the same things you mentioned are true for me. Isabel and I had some great years together, and it was a pleasure and a privilege to share the responsibility of raising her daughters. Laura and Kate, I love you! (And you know that I love your grandma, too.)"
"Primo you were very instrumental in Laura and Kate's upbringing. Really give YOU a lot of credit for how they turned out as mature adults. THANK YOU BROTHER. Take care and God bless." ]
Woman: Um OK.
Me: And then our basement flooded on the carpeted part so I had to get the carpet water thingy from the hardware store.
Woman: Uh--
Me: I'm sorry. I am a total stranger telling you all this. But I can't tell anyone else about the alimony thing because it's so awful. I can't say it out loud anywhere else.
Woman: OK.
Me: Bye.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Thursday, February 6, 2014
In which we wonder what to do about Isabel
You guys know that Isabel has had cancer for years, right?
And now, because of the chemo, which has not cured her cancer, she also has acute leukemia.
And because the chemo has so battered her, she keeps getting other sicknesses - pneumonia, whatever.
She has been very, very sick recently. A friend of Primo's who has been helping Isabel called Primo the other night to tell him that Isabel was in the ICU.
Now Primo doesn't know what to do.
"She only calls me when she needs something," he said.
Which is true. She needed money to pay her taxes last year and we helped her. She needed money for the cat's medication and we helped her. When she needs work on her computer, Primo helped.
But she only calls when she wants something.
When Primo wants something, like to walk his stepdaughter down the aisle, he doesn't get it. Isabel kept him from going to the wedding, which I still think was really, really mean.
"You loved her for a long time," I said. "Maybe you should call her. She's a good person."
Primo snorted. "You've never had anything nice to say about her before."
I paused. "I am not happy with many of the things that she has done, but I don't think she deserves to die like this. I don't think she deserves to have cancer. All I wanted was for her not to be a factor in our lives."
"I don't know if I should call her," he said. "She has never wanted to hear anything about my life. She doesn't even want to hear about our cats. All I wanted was for her to move on and be happy - maybe meet someone who was a better match. I stayed with her longer than I should have, but I wanted to wait until I got the girls out of college. Maybe I'll just call the girls."
Which he does.
And then, a few days later, he gets an email that Isabel's condition has worsened - she is in a non-responsive state - and that it is not going to be long now.
"I didn't even call her!" he says.
I don't know what to say. I didn't like Isabel just because of the way she treated Primo, but I can understand why she would be upset that he didn't want to be married to her any more and wouldn't want to hear about his new life without her. I would be bothered by anyone wanting to divorce me, but Primo is a really good guy. He's a good person with a big heart and it had to have been a big blow to Isabel to lose him. (For those of you new to this blog, I did not meet Primo until after he filed for divorce, so I am not the proximate cause of that breakup.)
So now he feels guilty but he's still a little bit angry that she wouldn't let him come to M's wedding. And that she only calls when she wants money.
And we are just waiting for the call that she has died.
And now, because of the chemo, which has not cured her cancer, she also has acute leukemia.
And because the chemo has so battered her, she keeps getting other sicknesses - pneumonia, whatever.
She has been very, very sick recently. A friend of Primo's who has been helping Isabel called Primo the other night to tell him that Isabel was in the ICU.
Now Primo doesn't know what to do.
"She only calls me when she needs something," he said.
Which is true. She needed money to pay her taxes last year and we helped her. She needed money for the cat's medication and we helped her. When she needs work on her computer, Primo helped.
But she only calls when she wants something.
When Primo wants something, like to walk his stepdaughter down the aisle, he doesn't get it. Isabel kept him from going to the wedding, which I still think was really, really mean.
"You loved her for a long time," I said. "Maybe you should call her. She's a good person."
Primo snorted. "You've never had anything nice to say about her before."
I paused. "I am not happy with many of the things that she has done, but I don't think she deserves to die like this. I don't think she deserves to have cancer. All I wanted was for her not to be a factor in our lives."
"I don't know if I should call her," he said. "She has never wanted to hear anything about my life. She doesn't even want to hear about our cats. All I wanted was for her to move on and be happy - maybe meet someone who was a better match. I stayed with her longer than I should have, but I wanted to wait until I got the girls out of college. Maybe I'll just call the girls."
Which he does.
And then, a few days later, he gets an email that Isabel's condition has worsened - she is in a non-responsive state - and that it is not going to be long now.
"I didn't even call her!" he says.
I don't know what to say. I didn't like Isabel just because of the way she treated Primo, but I can understand why she would be upset that he didn't want to be married to her any more and wouldn't want to hear about his new life without her. I would be bothered by anyone wanting to divorce me, but Primo is a really good guy. He's a good person with a big heart and it had to have been a big blow to Isabel to lose him. (For those of you new to this blog, I did not meet Primo until after he filed for divorce, so I am not the proximate cause of that breakup.)
So now he feels guilty but he's still a little bit angry that she wouldn't let him come to M's wedding. And that she only calls when she wants money.
And we are just waiting for the call that she has died.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
In which Doris finally doesn't send us a Christmas present
You knew the gift drama wouldn't end that easily, right? So Doris commented that I had not really thanked her for the green glass pear - that I just thanked her for the gift but did not even mention it by name.
Tell me, dear reader, what should I have done? If I had lied and raved that I loooooved the green glass pear, I would have gotten more green glass pears. That is not what I want for my life.
But I do want to acknowledge that she made an effort on my behalf and sent me something that she - and here is where we remember that one of the tricks to writing well is that even the villain has a good reason for doing what he does - that you have to look at it from the antagonist's POV because for the bad guy, it all makes perfect sense - that she thinks is nice.
Blessherheart, Doris loves kitschy things like green glass pears and that's OK. Everyone is allowed to have her own taste. Lord knows there are undoubtedly people who look at how I dress and wonder to themselves if I ever look at a mirror. There are people like my sister who want to get their hands on me just to do some hair and makeup and when my sister does get her hands on me, I look sooooo much better. But I am lazy and don't want to spend all that time primping and I am working in a dead-end job and I already have a husband and it's so darn cold here that I think why even bother to try to look fabulous, I'm just going to cover everything up with layers and layers and layers of clothes.
Where was I?
Oh. Christmas. Presents.
And again, this is what I feel guilty writing because nobody is obligated to give anyone a present.
And I am trying to figure out why this bothers me so much. I have written about gift giving so many times on this blog that there could be an entire book. What is the deep trauma related to the Doris gift drama? Why can't I let this go? Why don't I let this go? This should not be such a big deal.
Except it is. There are rules and rituals in all societies about things. One of my grad school professors said there were three constants across cultures - something about hospitality, incest, and reciprocity.
I think he much have been wrong or else I am not remembering it properly, although when you hear a professor mention incest in business school - I was not in a psych or criminal justice program - it sticks with you. I don't think there is a taboo against incest in all cultures. Didn't the ancient Egyptians marry their siblings?
But I do remember him talking about reciprocity and perhaps that's the value I feel Doris is violating - that Primo gives so much more than he gets.
I deserve nothing from Doris. I give her nothing. But Primo gives his time and a lot of money. She is his mother and he loves her, but he takes care of her other than the other way around. Maybe that's what bugs me so much - she has forced a role reversal that I think is unfair, as Sly and Doris are capable of taking care of themselves - they have the resources - but they refuse to do so. Instead, they lean on Primo but don't even make an effort to understand what he might like in his life.
And then there is the absolute violation of reciprocity. Gift giving is fraught with symbolism. I was horrified at a work conference last year when my customer from Singapore presented me with a lovely Hermes scarf - wait, not Hermes but the next best fancy scarf he could get - and I had nothing to give in return. It hadn't even occurred to me that I should be giving gifts. This was a business meeting, not a family holiday!
But his giving me a gift imposed on me a reciprocal obligation that I frantically sought to fulfill.
Fortunately, our admin had brought gifts just for this occasion, so I gave him something - I don't remember what - but it surely was not as good as the scarf, which I wear at least once a week if not more. I love the scarf. It's one of the best presents I have ever gotten and it was from someone who had never even met me in person.
Whereas Doris has not only met me but she has been in my house and she has asked Primo what I want. Despite all of that, she has never gotten me anything I liked. (Except for the re-usable cloth grocery bags that roll up and fit in my purse. Those, I love. But besides that.) Maybe I get so bothered by this because I feel like she isn't even trying to figure out what I would like - that she shows her dislike of me by getting me presents I would never want. And this should not bother me, because I don't like her either, so we are even. But the presents she gets from me are Primo's visits - those come from his vacation time and from our earnings, both of which are zero-sum options - the more she gets, the less I get.
So I feel like I give her something she treasures and she looks around for the crappiest thing she can find to send me in return. Does that make sense? Or am I just a big fat whiner?
Anyhow. Primo finally convinced Doris not to send us any more crap.
So she just didn't send anything.
Even though when Doris has asked Primo what we would like, he has told her that we would love play tickets or football tickets or a restaurant certificate.
Doris' response is that she doesn't want to give us cash equivalents because
1. that's tacky
2. we can buy those things for ourselves
But that's not true. I mean sure we can buy those things for ourselves but the point is that we don't because we try not to be spendthrifts and we've already bought a new roof this year and I need major oral surgery and we have to save for our Old Age, when we will have no children to visit us twice a year and clean the mildew from our refrigerator and listen to us whine on the phone.
So in theory, yes, we could spend lots of money on ephemeral things but we do not because we - or at least I - fear poverty in my old age.
Primo tried to point out to his mom that my mom just sends us a check for $100 at Christmas and we use it to go out for a nice meal that we wouldn't otherwise have.
Which of course was the kiss of death - for Primo to cite my mother as an authority. Sly and Doris do not think much of my family. The family that "isn't close," even though Primo and I stay with my aunts and uncles every summer, which sure, is not as close as Primo's family, where he went to the funeral of an uncle he had not seen for 20 years.
So this Christmas. No green glass pears. No framed photos of themselves. No cast-iron cats.
Which is a victory of sorts. Less work returning stuff.
But just a note from Doris - a Christmas card - that I choose to interpret as snide but you all know I am completely unobjective when it comes to all this. Maybe there was no snideness at all in it. After all, unlike previous Christmas cards, this one did not lament that our country was being ruined by old white men and did not close with, "Everything sucks and I get despondent."
She wrote,
Dear GD and Primo,
I finally got the message loud and clear - NO STUFF! So you'll have nothing under your tree. We don't need any stuff either as we have far too much.
And I was thinking to my nasty, greedy self. "I wouldn't have minded a check under the tree to help pay for Primo's next flight there."
Tell me, dear reader, what should I have done? If I had lied and raved that I loooooved the green glass pear, I would have gotten more green glass pears. That is not what I want for my life.
But I do want to acknowledge that she made an effort on my behalf and sent me something that she - and here is where we remember that one of the tricks to writing well is that even the villain has a good reason for doing what he does - that you have to look at it from the antagonist's POV because for the bad guy, it all makes perfect sense - that she thinks is nice.
Blessherheart, Doris loves kitschy things like green glass pears and that's OK. Everyone is allowed to have her own taste. Lord knows there are undoubtedly people who look at how I dress and wonder to themselves if I ever look at a mirror. There are people like my sister who want to get their hands on me just to do some hair and makeup and when my sister does get her hands on me, I look sooooo much better. But I am lazy and don't want to spend all that time primping and I am working in a dead-end job and I already have a husband and it's so darn cold here that I think why even bother to try to look fabulous, I'm just going to cover everything up with layers and layers and layers of clothes.
Where was I?
Oh. Christmas. Presents.
And again, this is what I feel guilty writing because nobody is obligated to give anyone a present.
And I am trying to figure out why this bothers me so much. I have written about gift giving so many times on this blog that there could be an entire book. What is the deep trauma related to the Doris gift drama? Why can't I let this go? Why don't I let this go? This should not be such a big deal.
Except it is. There are rules and rituals in all societies about things. One of my grad school professors said there were three constants across cultures - something about hospitality, incest, and reciprocity.
I think he much have been wrong or else I am not remembering it properly, although when you hear a professor mention incest in business school - I was not in a psych or criminal justice program - it sticks with you. I don't think there is a taboo against incest in all cultures. Didn't the ancient Egyptians marry their siblings?
But I do remember him talking about reciprocity and perhaps that's the value I feel Doris is violating - that Primo gives so much more than he gets.
I deserve nothing from Doris. I give her nothing. But Primo gives his time and a lot of money. She is his mother and he loves her, but he takes care of her other than the other way around. Maybe that's what bugs me so much - she has forced a role reversal that I think is unfair, as Sly and Doris are capable of taking care of themselves - they have the resources - but they refuse to do so. Instead, they lean on Primo but don't even make an effort to understand what he might like in his life.
And then there is the absolute violation of reciprocity. Gift giving is fraught with symbolism. I was horrified at a work conference last year when my customer from Singapore presented me with a lovely Hermes scarf - wait, not Hermes but the next best fancy scarf he could get - and I had nothing to give in return. It hadn't even occurred to me that I should be giving gifts. This was a business meeting, not a family holiday!
But his giving me a gift imposed on me a reciprocal obligation that I frantically sought to fulfill.
Fortunately, our admin had brought gifts just for this occasion, so I gave him something - I don't remember what - but it surely was not as good as the scarf, which I wear at least once a week if not more. I love the scarf. It's one of the best presents I have ever gotten and it was from someone who had never even met me in person.
Whereas Doris has not only met me but she has been in my house and she has asked Primo what I want. Despite all of that, she has never gotten me anything I liked. (Except for the re-usable cloth grocery bags that roll up and fit in my purse. Those, I love. But besides that.) Maybe I get so bothered by this because I feel like she isn't even trying to figure out what I would like - that she shows her dislike of me by getting me presents I would never want. And this should not bother me, because I don't like her either, so we are even. But the presents she gets from me are Primo's visits - those come from his vacation time and from our earnings, both of which are zero-sum options - the more she gets, the less I get.
So I feel like I give her something she treasures and she looks around for the crappiest thing she can find to send me in return. Does that make sense? Or am I just a big fat whiner?
Anyhow. Primo finally convinced Doris not to send us any more crap.
So she just didn't send anything.
Even though when Doris has asked Primo what we would like, he has told her that we would love play tickets or football tickets or a restaurant certificate.
Doris' response is that she doesn't want to give us cash equivalents because
1. that's tacky
2. we can buy those things for ourselves
But that's not true. I mean sure we can buy those things for ourselves but the point is that we don't because we try not to be spendthrifts and we've already bought a new roof this year and I need major oral surgery and we have to save for our Old Age, when we will have no children to visit us twice a year and clean the mildew from our refrigerator and listen to us whine on the phone.
So in theory, yes, we could spend lots of money on ephemeral things but we do not because we - or at least I - fear poverty in my old age.
Primo tried to point out to his mom that my mom just sends us a check for $100 at Christmas and we use it to go out for a nice meal that we wouldn't otherwise have.
Which of course was the kiss of death - for Primo to cite my mother as an authority. Sly and Doris do not think much of my family. The family that "isn't close," even though Primo and I stay with my aunts and uncles every summer, which sure, is not as close as Primo's family, where he went to the funeral of an uncle he had not seen for 20 years.
So this Christmas. No green glass pears. No framed photos of themselves. No cast-iron cats.
Which is a victory of sorts. Less work returning stuff.
But just a note from Doris - a Christmas card - that I choose to interpret as snide but you all know I am completely unobjective when it comes to all this. Maybe there was no snideness at all in it. After all, unlike previous Christmas cards, this one did not lament that our country was being ruined by old white men and did not close with, "Everything sucks and I get despondent."
She wrote,
Dear GD and Primo,
I finally got the message loud and clear - NO STUFF! So you'll have nothing under your tree. We don't need any stuff either as we have far too much.
And I was thinking to my nasty, greedy self. "I wouldn't have minded a check under the tree to help pay for Primo's next flight there."
Thursday, January 23, 2014
In which I go from the frying pan into the fire
Did I tell you guys that I got a new job? I can't remember and I am too lazy to review old posts. But I did. I moved within my company to a new division that does not get the week between Christmas and New Years' off and I started there two days before Christmas, which is surely the worst timing ever.
My old boss was cranky that I resigned and asked if I would take a raise to stay. I said no, mostly because he still couldn't offer me what the new job is paying (which is still way less than I used to make but now at least I am not completely mortified to say the number out loud) but also because
1. if he thought I was so great, why didn't he raise my pay before? and
2. I didn't want to work for him. Nice guy but not a good boss for me.
And the irony of it all is that he announced his resignation the day before I started my new job.
So I walked into the new office the first day - it is a few blocks from my old office - and discovered that not only would I still be in a cubicle, even though all of my peers and one of the people at a lower level than me have an office, but I would be in a cubicle that has no walls.
That's right. A wall-less cubicle. Oh sure, there is a small wall between me and the person next to me, but not high enough to block anything. And there are no walls other than the one separating my desk from the one next to it. I am in the middle of the room, far away from the offices and the windows, and I am the closest person in the room to the radio.
Which was blaring.
Have I mentioned how I like it to be quiet when I work? No smacking chewing gum, no dry granola, no carrot sticks. Quiet. As in, no radio.
How can people work with noise? Do they have jobs that require no thought? Even if your job requires no thought, how can you stand nine hours of radio a day?
I tried putting in the earbuds from my mp3 player, but that didn't block the noise. I tried my skype headset. Nope.
Then I just took my computer and went into the conference room, which was actually a fine solution. Then my new boss found me there and asked me what was going on. I told him. He was completely unaware of the radio because he has the corner office and has the new BMW, i.e., a door, so does not have to hear noise.
He went outside and turned the radio off.
I returned to my desk only to have the woman next to me ask, "You don't like Christmas music?"
Subtext was, "What kind of monster are you?"
My answer of, "I don't really like any kind of music at work" did not do anything to improve her opinion of me.
She said, "The rest of us really like the radio. It's a nice distraction."
So what do you do? Be the office bitch on Day One? Or suck it up?
I have to find another new job.
My old boss was cranky that I resigned and asked if I would take a raise to stay. I said no, mostly because he still couldn't offer me what the new job is paying (which is still way less than I used to make but now at least I am not completely mortified to say the number out loud) but also because
1. if he thought I was so great, why didn't he raise my pay before? and
2. I didn't want to work for him. Nice guy but not a good boss for me.
And the irony of it all is that he announced his resignation the day before I started my new job.
So I walked into the new office the first day - it is a few blocks from my old office - and discovered that not only would I still be in a cubicle, even though all of my peers and one of the people at a lower level than me have an office, but I would be in a cubicle that has no walls.
That's right. A wall-less cubicle. Oh sure, there is a small wall between me and the person next to me, but not high enough to block anything. And there are no walls other than the one separating my desk from the one next to it. I am in the middle of the room, far away from the offices and the windows, and I am the closest person in the room to the radio.
Which was blaring.
Have I mentioned how I like it to be quiet when I work? No smacking chewing gum, no dry granola, no carrot sticks. Quiet. As in, no radio.
How can people work with noise? Do they have jobs that require no thought? Even if your job requires no thought, how can you stand nine hours of radio a day?
I tried putting in the earbuds from my mp3 player, but that didn't block the noise. I tried my skype headset. Nope.
Then I just took my computer and went into the conference room, which was actually a fine solution. Then my new boss found me there and asked me what was going on. I told him. He was completely unaware of the radio because he has the corner office and has the new BMW, i.e., a door, so does not have to hear noise.
He went outside and turned the radio off.
I returned to my desk only to have the woman next to me ask, "You don't like Christmas music?"
Subtext was, "What kind of monster are you?"
My answer of, "I don't really like any kind of music at work" did not do anything to improve her opinion of me.
She said, "The rest of us really like the radio. It's a nice distraction."
So what do you do? Be the office bitch on Day One? Or suck it up?
I have to find another new job.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
In which Sly, the smartest man in the room, cannot figure out how to return a gift that Primo sent him
Recently, Primo sent a watch to Sly. He bought it on woot.com, which is a site that offers flash sales. Woot shipped the watch to Sly. The watch didn't work.
Sly did not try to deal directly with woot. Instead, he asked Primo to deal with it.
Note that when I return a gift that Doris has bought me - which is almost every single time she has bought me a gift - I deal directly with the vendor to return the item.
Part of this is because if I told Doris I wanted to return a gift, she would be grossly insulted, which frankly, I don't care about, but it's just not worth it for Primo because they pile on him.
Yes. I, too, think he needs to hang up the phone when they do this. I think he should cut them off. But I cannot make him do it. Trust me I have tried.
Last night, Primo and I were on a plane back from my sister's wedding, which I must say was a total blast. I had been a little cranky at the short notice and the timing - she told us in early October she was getting married in mid December. We already were planning a trip to San Francisco for Primo's work and my vacation, so we had to juggle a few things, but it worked out great and it was a really fun weekend with my sister's friends, many of whom I had not seen for 30 years, and my aunts and uncles - all six of my mom's siblings and their spouses attended. Primo and I were standing in my aunt Mary's kitchen talking to four of my aunts and then my uncles pulled Primo away because they never get to talk to him and everyone likes him and thinks he's fab, which he is.
"Too bad your family isn't close," he said.
"Yep," I answered. "We hate each others' guts." Then I asked him, "Would you rather spend time with my family or yours?"
"I know I'm not supposed to say this," he said, "but yours. They are all so nice."
Which they are. I suspect most people have nice families, which makes it very hard for us to imagine life in a not-nice family, which is why when we encounter a not-nice family, we are so disbelieving and horrified. I read Carolyn Hax in the Washington Post and any time someone writes to complain about her in-laws, there are commenters who doubt the letter writer. They think she is exaggerating or that she is the real problem. Perhaps that is sometimes the case, but I can guarantee you that there are Bad In-Laws with nice daughters in law or sons in law. But until you live it yourself, you really don't know.
So we were on the plane and Primo opened his hotmail to find a note from his dad.
Primo had arranged for Sly to return the watch to woot. He had contacted woot and gotten a shipping label and forwarded it to Sly.
Sly prepared the package and mailed it.
It was returned with a note from the PO: The bar code had been wrinkled and unreadable; the link from woot with the shipping label had expired. Sly explained this to Primo and wrote, "Please advise."
1. Is there really no process at the PO to have someone process such a package manually? Would they really rather return a package to sender than read the address? I am not pleased with the USPS.
2. Is Sly, who is the Smartest Man in the World, truly incapable of solving this problem by himself? Does he really have to delegate it to Primo?
If it were me, I would have tried these things:
1. Ask my postman if I can re-send and have the PO have a human being read the address label.
2. Ask my postman if I can re-send with a new label without a bar code.
3. Email woot myself and ask what to do.
I would not have asked Primo to solve the problem for me. I would think to myself, "I have a PhD from Michigan. I am super super smart. Doesn't everyone know that? I tell them that all the time. I am so smart that I can figure this out by myself. I am not going to ask my son, who has only a BS, to solve this problem for me because he is probably not smart enough."
What I suspect Sly thought was, "Why should I do this work? I will see if I can get Primo to do it for me, even though I don't do anything all day but read stuff online and drink."
Primo emailed woot last night. I will suggest that he forward the response from woot to his dad with the note, "Please handle this yourself. The customer service email and the order number are included in this note." He was pretty cranky about Sly, so I think he might be open to the idea.
Sly did not try to deal directly with woot. Instead, he asked Primo to deal with it.
Note that when I return a gift that Doris has bought me - which is almost every single time she has bought me a gift - I deal directly with the vendor to return the item.
Part of this is because if I told Doris I wanted to return a gift, she would be grossly insulted, which frankly, I don't care about, but it's just not worth it for Primo because they pile on him.
Yes. I, too, think he needs to hang up the phone when they do this. I think he should cut them off. But I cannot make him do it. Trust me I have tried.
Last night, Primo and I were on a plane back from my sister's wedding, which I must say was a total blast. I had been a little cranky at the short notice and the timing - she told us in early October she was getting married in mid December. We already were planning a trip to San Francisco for Primo's work and my vacation, so we had to juggle a few things, but it worked out great and it was a really fun weekend with my sister's friends, many of whom I had not seen for 30 years, and my aunts and uncles - all six of my mom's siblings and their spouses attended. Primo and I were standing in my aunt Mary's kitchen talking to four of my aunts and then my uncles pulled Primo away because they never get to talk to him and everyone likes him and thinks he's fab, which he is.
"Too bad your family isn't close," he said.
"Yep," I answered. "We hate each others' guts." Then I asked him, "Would you rather spend time with my family or yours?"
"I know I'm not supposed to say this," he said, "but yours. They are all so nice."
Which they are. I suspect most people have nice families, which makes it very hard for us to imagine life in a not-nice family, which is why when we encounter a not-nice family, we are so disbelieving and horrified. I read Carolyn Hax in the Washington Post and any time someone writes to complain about her in-laws, there are commenters who doubt the letter writer. They think she is exaggerating or that she is the real problem. Perhaps that is sometimes the case, but I can guarantee you that there are Bad In-Laws with nice daughters in law or sons in law. But until you live it yourself, you really don't know.
So we were on the plane and Primo opened his hotmail to find a note from his dad.
Primo had arranged for Sly to return the watch to woot. He had contacted woot and gotten a shipping label and forwarded it to Sly.
Sly prepared the package and mailed it.
It was returned with a note from the PO: The bar code had been wrinkled and unreadable; the link from woot with the shipping label had expired. Sly explained this to Primo and wrote, "Please advise."
1. Is there really no process at the PO to have someone process such a package manually? Would they really rather return a package to sender than read the address? I am not pleased with the USPS.
2. Is Sly, who is the Smartest Man in the World, truly incapable of solving this problem by himself? Does he really have to delegate it to Primo?
If it were me, I would have tried these things:
1. Ask my postman if I can re-send and have the PO have a human being read the address label.
2. Ask my postman if I can re-send with a new label without a bar code.
3. Email woot myself and ask what to do.
I would not have asked Primo to solve the problem for me. I would think to myself, "I have a PhD from Michigan. I am super super smart. Doesn't everyone know that? I tell them that all the time. I am so smart that I can figure this out by myself. I am not going to ask my son, who has only a BS, to solve this problem for me because he is probably not smart enough."
What I suspect Sly thought was, "Why should I do this work? I will see if I can get Primo to do it for me, even though I don't do anything all day but read stuff online and drink."
Primo emailed woot last night. I will suggest that he forward the response from woot to his dad with the note, "Please handle this yourself. The customer service email and the order number are included in this note." He was pretty cranky about Sly, so I think he might be open to the idea.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
In which there is more griping about the green glass pear
The griping is not from me - it is from Doris.
She is unhappy with the thank you note that I wrote to her.
She does have a point: her complaint is that I didn't actually mention the pear.
What I very carefully did - because I do not want to encourage more presents in the class of Green Glass Pears - was not mention the pear.
Instead, I thanked her for her thoughtfulness in remembering my birthday and I thanked her for sending a gift. Then I segued rather cleverly into talking about Primo, her favorite subject, thinking she wouldn't notice.
But she did.
And she asked Primo why I didn't mention the pear. Primo knew why, of course, but also knew if he told her that I didn't like it that there would be Drama, so he just shrugged and said he didn't know.
What do you do in a situation like that? If I had raved about the pear, she would have thought, "Finally! I found something she likes!" And then my house would fill with glass fruits of various colors.
I had to stop the madness.
I remember an episode of Car Talk where the caller said that when his friend had bought a Saab, he had raved about it because he didn't know what to say and he thought it was the ugliest car he had ever seen.
But it's kind of like praising someone's baby - what possible repercussions could there be? Nobody is ever harmed by saying, "What a beautiful baby!" even though most new babies look a lot like monkeys and are beautiful only to their parents. The parents beam when they hear the words because to them, it is a beautiful baby. You don't need to worry that the mother will thrust the baby into your arms and say, "You take her! You love her more than I do!" You can praise a baby and all your little white lie and following of a social convention do is make someone happy.
This guy had raved about his friend's car. I don't know what possessed him to do it - maybe the friend was so proud and asked the caller what he thought about his amazing new gorgeous car and the caller shrugged and thought, "Eh. What harm can come of this? I'll tell my friend his car is gorgeous." Which he did.
And so when the friend wanted to sell the car a few years later, the caller's wife bought it for him. Because she thought he loved it so much.
That's the reason you never lie about liking cars or green glass pears. It is safe to lie about babies, but it is not safe to lie about gifts or cars. It will come back to haunt you. Which is why I did not lie. But Doris isn't strong enough for the truth.
She is unhappy with the thank you note that I wrote to her.
She does have a point: her complaint is that I didn't actually mention the pear.
What I very carefully did - because I do not want to encourage more presents in the class of Green Glass Pears - was not mention the pear.
Instead, I thanked her for her thoughtfulness in remembering my birthday and I thanked her for sending a gift. Then I segued rather cleverly into talking about Primo, her favorite subject, thinking she wouldn't notice.
But she did.
And she asked Primo why I didn't mention the pear. Primo knew why, of course, but also knew if he told her that I didn't like it that there would be Drama, so he just shrugged and said he didn't know.
What do you do in a situation like that? If I had raved about the pear, she would have thought, "Finally! I found something she likes!" And then my house would fill with glass fruits of various colors.
I had to stop the madness.
I remember an episode of Car Talk where the caller said that when his friend had bought a Saab, he had raved about it because he didn't know what to say and he thought it was the ugliest car he had ever seen.
But it's kind of like praising someone's baby - what possible repercussions could there be? Nobody is ever harmed by saying, "What a beautiful baby!" even though most new babies look a lot like monkeys and are beautiful only to their parents. The parents beam when they hear the words because to them, it is a beautiful baby. You don't need to worry that the mother will thrust the baby into your arms and say, "You take her! You love her more than I do!" You can praise a baby and all your little white lie and following of a social convention do is make someone happy.
This guy had raved about his friend's car. I don't know what possessed him to do it - maybe the friend was so proud and asked the caller what he thought about his amazing new gorgeous car and the caller shrugged and thought, "Eh. What harm can come of this? I'll tell my friend his car is gorgeous." Which he did.
And so when the friend wanted to sell the car a few years later, the caller's wife bought it for him. Because she thought he loved it so much.
That's the reason you never lie about liking cars or green glass pears. It is safe to lie about babies, but it is not safe to lie about gifts or cars. It will come back to haunt you. Which is why I did not lie. But Doris isn't strong enough for the truth.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
In which the green glass pear drama just doesn't quit
I told you about the birthday present that Doris sent me - a green glass pear.
First, full disclosure: Primo is partly responsible. He was at Sly and Doris' when Doris was looking at presents and he just got tired of saying "no" to everything. Doris found the pear and pointed out that Primo and I have a pear tree in our back yard and wouldn't a green glass pear be cute and he surrendered and said yes.
I have advised him that he should never ever again agree to any present that is purely decorative. I went so far as to say if Doris likes it, I probably will not, partly because I don't want to like anything she would like but mostly because we truly do not share the same taste.
Not to say that I am Miss Fancy to whom everyone turns for taste advice - I have been known to go out in public in gym clothes without bathing when I am not going to the gym - but nobody who looks at any part of my house (except Primo's office, which is its own thing) would ever think, "I can tell this is someone who would love trinkets, curios, and tchotchkes."
Anyhow. I took the pear to the post office, told my tale of woe to the postal clerk, who told me to be nice to my mother in law but when I explained that she and my husband's dad had threatened to boycott the wedding two weeks before the wedding, he became more sympathetic. He was wearing a cross around his neck - when I noticed that, I explained further that one of the reasons she and Sly had not wanted me to marry Primo was because I was one of those stupid people who believe in God.
A word on atheists - I have several atheist friends. Belief or lack of belief has never been an issue in our friendship. I do not tell my atheist friends that I am worried for their eternal souls and they do not tell me that I am stupid for believing in God. I don't know if they think that - if they do, they are polite enough not to say it out loud.
And I am polite enough not to say that I don't want them to burn in hell (which of course I do not want to happen - I wouldn't even want that for Sly and Doris), mostly because that would be tacky but also because I do not know what happens when we die and I have enough to worry about with my own soul, much less the souls of others. However, let it be said that if there is a God and an afterlife, I do hope that my friends and I are all together in the Good Place and nobody goes to hell unless they are really, really bad and I am talking about Hitler level bad. (If Sly and Doris are there, perhaps they could stay on one side of heaven and I could be on the other.)
But I don't know. It's not something we talk about. Except I do sometimes talk about it with Jessica, my high school biology lab partner who is an atheist UU minister, just because I am so fascinated that an atheist would choose a career path in religion.
So for Sly and Doris to be that contemptuous of believers is a bit off putting. As soon as I explained that part to the postal worker, he was completely on my side.
Where was I?
Oh. I returned the glass pear. I had to call the store to find out if they had gotten it because they didn't mail me anything to inform me.
Yay. They had gotten it, unshattered - a shame, actually, as I would have gotten a payment from the PO - and now I had a credit at the shop.
Primo and I looked at the website, desperate to find a way to use the credit. Did we want a $59 towel? No we did not. We did not want anything else on the site - wait. Back up. Is that a pillow? A pillow made in the USA? On sale for $59?
Primo needed a new pillow.
We are not ones to spend $59 on a pillow, but we needed a way to launder this cash and turn it into something useful.
And it was made in the USA. Always nice to support our friends and neighbors.
I ordered the pillow.
It arrived.
We opened it.
The tag said, "Made in Sri Lanka."
Sri Lanka <> USA.
To complicate matters, Primo didn't like it.
Back to the store, along with the repeated plea not to notify the purchaser of the original order, ie, Doris.
Again, no mail or email notification that the store had gotten the return. Instead, I got a phone call.
A phone call.
Who notifies customers of a return by phone?
I had to explain to the customer service agent that no, I could not write down the return number because I was in the chair at the dentist* and it was not exactly convenient.
Now I have another credit at a store I do not like. I have suggested to Primo that he choose a Christmas present for Doris from the store, as she seems to like this sort of thing.
* Where the dental assistant had told me she was going to "higher" my chair. Which she did.
First, full disclosure: Primo is partly responsible. He was at Sly and Doris' when Doris was looking at presents and he just got tired of saying "no" to everything. Doris found the pear and pointed out that Primo and I have a pear tree in our back yard and wouldn't a green glass pear be cute and he surrendered and said yes.
I have advised him that he should never ever again agree to any present that is purely decorative. I went so far as to say if Doris likes it, I probably will not, partly because I don't want to like anything she would like but mostly because we truly do not share the same taste.
Not to say that I am Miss Fancy to whom everyone turns for taste advice - I have been known to go out in public in gym clothes without bathing when I am not going to the gym - but nobody who looks at any part of my house (except Primo's office, which is its own thing) would ever think, "I can tell this is someone who would love trinkets, curios, and tchotchkes."
Anyhow. I took the pear to the post office, told my tale of woe to the postal clerk, who told me to be nice to my mother in law but when I explained that she and my husband's dad had threatened to boycott the wedding two weeks before the wedding, he became more sympathetic. He was wearing a cross around his neck - when I noticed that, I explained further that one of the reasons she and Sly had not wanted me to marry Primo was because I was one of those stupid people who believe in God.
A word on atheists - I have several atheist friends. Belief or lack of belief has never been an issue in our friendship. I do not tell my atheist friends that I am worried for their eternal souls and they do not tell me that I am stupid for believing in God. I don't know if they think that - if they do, they are polite enough not to say it out loud.
And I am polite enough not to say that I don't want them to burn in hell (which of course I do not want to happen - I wouldn't even want that for Sly and Doris), mostly because that would be tacky but also because I do not know what happens when we die and I have enough to worry about with my own soul, much less the souls of others. However, let it be said that if there is a God and an afterlife, I do hope that my friends and I are all together in the Good Place and nobody goes to hell unless they are really, really bad and I am talking about Hitler level bad. (If Sly and Doris are there, perhaps they could stay on one side of heaven and I could be on the other.)
But I don't know. It's not something we talk about. Except I do sometimes talk about it with Jessica, my high school biology lab partner who is an atheist UU minister, just because I am so fascinated that an atheist would choose a career path in religion.
So for Sly and Doris to be that contemptuous of believers is a bit off putting. As soon as I explained that part to the postal worker, he was completely on my side.
Where was I?
Oh. I returned the glass pear. I had to call the store to find out if they had gotten it because they didn't mail me anything to inform me.
Yay. They had gotten it, unshattered - a shame, actually, as I would have gotten a payment from the PO - and now I had a credit at the shop.
Primo and I looked at the website, desperate to find a way to use the credit. Did we want a $59 towel? No we did not. We did not want anything else on the site - wait. Back up. Is that a pillow? A pillow made in the USA? On sale for $59?
Primo needed a new pillow.
We are not ones to spend $59 on a pillow, but we needed a way to launder this cash and turn it into something useful.
And it was made in the USA. Always nice to support our friends and neighbors.
I ordered the pillow.
It arrived.
We opened it.
The tag said, "Made in Sri Lanka."
Sri Lanka <> USA.
To complicate matters, Primo didn't like it.
Back to the store, along with the repeated plea not to notify the purchaser of the original order, ie, Doris.
Again, no mail or email notification that the store had gotten the return. Instead, I got a phone call.
A phone call.
Who notifies customers of a return by phone?
I had to explain to the customer service agent that no, I could not write down the return number because I was in the chair at the dentist* and it was not exactly convenient.
Now I have another credit at a store I do not like. I have suggested to Primo that he choose a Christmas present for Doris from the store, as she seems to like this sort of thing.
* Where the dental assistant had told me she was going to "higher" my chair. Which she did.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
In which a Thanksgiving passes without too much drama
Have you been wondering how Thanksgiving chez Doris and Sly was this year? I have. So I asked Primo, who had spent his Thanksgiving with me, grilling a steak and watching "Brokeback Mountain," and then putting the snow tires on the car and vacuuming and all the fun things that adults get to do with their time and money.
But he was home and not with Sly and Doris so it was a good weekend.
He spoke on the phone with Sly and Doris on Thanksgiving and then again on that Sunday because of course they expect a call on a holiday and then there is the regular Sunday call.
Am I the abnormal one for not calling my mother every week and talking to her for an hour about whatever? For not listening to her complain about how awful the entire world is and how I am her Only Joy (only she would never say that because I am not - my mom has many hobbies that keep her too busy to chat)? Am I a Bad Daughter for not calling my mom every week?
Or do Sly and Doris expect too much and should Primo put his foot down and tell them to leave him alone? (How I wish he would. I have tried to convince him but thus far have not been successful.)
Anyhow. He spoke to them about their Thanksgiving, which they spent with Stephanie, who is my ex sister in law - she was married to Primo's half brother Jack until a few years ago. Sly and Doris almost never have anything nice to say to her or about her yet she is a saint, going over to help them with household repairs and inviting them over for holidays.
Primo spoke to Sly and Doris on Sunday. Doris was telling him that Thanksgiving was nice. As she was speaking, Sly was in the background telling Doris "not to tell Primo about that thing because I don't want it to get back to Stephanie."
So of course Primo reported that odd conversation to me.
"Did they not say anything negative about Stephanie?" I asked.
"My dad said the turkey was dry. He said he could tell the second he walked into the house."
Which I didn't understand - how can you tell if the turkey is dry before you even see it or taste it? But Sly is a man of many talents and his power is legion.
"Is that what's not supposed to get back to Stephanie?"
"I don't think so," Primo said.
We mused. What could it be? Now we wanted to know.
I texted Stephanie.
But he was home and not with Sly and Doris so it was a good weekend.
He spoke on the phone with Sly and Doris on Thanksgiving and then again on that Sunday because of course they expect a call on a holiday and then there is the regular Sunday call.
Am I the abnormal one for not calling my mother every week and talking to her for an hour about whatever? For not listening to her complain about how awful the entire world is and how I am her Only Joy (only she would never say that because I am not - my mom has many hobbies that keep her too busy to chat)? Am I a Bad Daughter for not calling my mom every week?
Or do Sly and Doris expect too much and should Primo put his foot down and tell them to leave him alone? (How I wish he would. I have tried to convince him but thus far have not been successful.)
Anyhow. He spoke to them about their Thanksgiving, which they spent with Stephanie, who is my ex sister in law - she was married to Primo's half brother Jack until a few years ago. Sly and Doris almost never have anything nice to say to her or about her yet she is a saint, going over to help them with household repairs and inviting them over for holidays.
Primo spoke to Sly and Doris on Sunday. Doris was telling him that Thanksgiving was nice. As she was speaking, Sly was in the background telling Doris "not to tell Primo about that thing because I don't want it to get back to Stephanie."
So of course Primo reported that odd conversation to me.
"Did they not say anything negative about Stephanie?" I asked.
"My dad said the turkey was dry. He said he could tell the second he walked into the house."
Which I didn't understand - how can you tell if the turkey is dry before you even see it or taste it? But Sly is a man of many talents and his power is legion.
"Is that what's not supposed to get back to Stephanie?"
"I don't think so," Primo said.
We mused. What could it be? Now we wanted to know.
I texted Stephanie.
Sunday, December 22, 2013
In which there is a very sincere potluck and I am a bad, bad person for thinking it is funny
But come on - don't you think this is kind of funny, too?
Please bring something to share. We do have friends who are vegan, vegetarian, lactose intolerant, and gluten intolerant so please consider making something they could enjoy as well.
No matter what you bring please label it with ingredients for those with allergies (meat, milk, eggs, nuts, etc)
I think the only food that would work would be water.
Please bring something to share. We do have friends who are vegan, vegetarian, lactose intolerant, and gluten intolerant so please consider making something they could enjoy as well.
No matter what you bring please label it with ingredients for those with allergies (meat, milk, eggs, nuts, etc)
I think the only food that would work would be water.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
In which I learn more about Sly and Doris' sex life again, even though this is not a subject that interests me at all
Me: Oh man! Listen to this title: "The sex toys in the attic. For the sake of your executors, throw them out. Now."
Primo: What?
Me: What if we find something in your mom and dad's basement?
Primo: I know we will.
Me: What?
Primo: I already know they have sex toys.
Me: How on earth do you know that?
Primo: Because--
Me: Wait. Stop talking. I do not want to hear another word about this.
Primo: But--
Me: No! Nothing! Nothing else about your parents' sex life!
Primo: OK.
Me: Seriously. Why do they tell you this stuff?
Primo: They have nobody else to talk to.
Me: Doesn't matter. They need to make friends. This is not appropriate conversation between a parent and a child.
Primo: My mom has nobody.
Me: Not your fault.
Primo: I feel bad for her.
Me: OK. How do you know about this?
Primo: Because the last time I was there, my dad asked me to go to Target and get C batteries.
Me: So?
Primo: I asked him what the batteries were for and he wouldn't tell me.
Me: Why did you ask him? Why would you care?
Primo: Because almost nothing uses C batteries any more. Wouldn't you want to know?
Me: No. I wouldn't care at all. So how did you find out?
Primo: I asked him again. Finally, after the third time, he told me they were for a vibrator.
Me: Oh gross.
Primo: Yeah, I know. But he is very proud that at his age, his sexuality is still a major part of his identity.
Me: That's not the issue. The issue is he tells you about it.
Primo: I know.
Me: So you don't want to know this stuff either.
Primo: I think it's gross.
Primo: What?
Me: What if we find something in your mom and dad's basement?
Primo: I know we will.
Me: What?
Primo: I already know they have sex toys.
Me: How on earth do you know that?
Primo: Because--
Me: Wait. Stop talking. I do not want to hear another word about this.
Primo: But--
Me: No! Nothing! Nothing else about your parents' sex life!
Primo: OK.
Me: Seriously. Why do they tell you this stuff?
Primo: They have nobody else to talk to.
Me: Doesn't matter. They need to make friends. This is not appropriate conversation between a parent and a child.
Primo: My mom has nobody.
Me: Not your fault.
Primo: I feel bad for her.
Me: OK. How do you know about this?
Primo: Because the last time I was there, my dad asked me to go to Target and get C batteries.
Me: So?
Primo: I asked him what the batteries were for and he wouldn't tell me.
Me: Why did you ask him? Why would you care?
Primo: Because almost nothing uses C batteries any more. Wouldn't you want to know?
Me: No. I wouldn't care at all. So how did you find out?
Primo: I asked him again. Finally, after the third time, he told me they were for a vibrator.
Me: Oh gross.
Primo: Yeah, I know. But he is very proud that at his age, his sexuality is still a major part of his identity.
Me: That's not the issue. The issue is he tells you about it.
Primo: I know.
Me: So you don't want to know this stuff either.
Primo: I think it's gross.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
In which there is another birthday and another present from Doris blessherheart
Stop reading right now if you get bothered by someone complaining about a gift. I am going to complain about something that someone gave me, freely and without expectation of reciprocity - wait - there is totally expectation of reciprocity. Doris totally expects something expensive in return.
But given freely, despite Primo's gentle warnings that Mom, she probably won't like that. Mom, don't get that for her.
I am a bitch. I complain about gifts when they come from Doris. I complain because
1. Except for the Envirosax bags that roll up and fit into my purse and the Lands End flannel sheets that Primo begged them to get if they were going to get us anything, even though they harrumphed and asked why should they get us sheets and Primo had to explain that we had been coveting those sheets for three years but could not bring ourselves to spend that much on sheets but they were on sale and Lands End was offering free shipping so now, now was the time to get them, Doris has never sent me anything I have liked or kept. Except Primo kept the cast-iron cat.
2. Every time Doris sends me a present, after I have confirmed with the store that they will not tell Doris that I have returned the item, I have to pay to send it back and then I end up with a store credit to a store that sells stuff I do not want.
3. Which means I have to cast about desperately for a way to use the credit.
4. And I don't always do that, because the stores are usually very expensive and sell things I don't like.
In this case, I will have to drive to the post office on Saturday to mail the box, because it is a huge box and too big to bring to work on the bus and send from the mailroom.
I already went through a live chat with the store, only I had to wait and wait because despite their assurances that they are open until 9 p.m. every day, they are not and live chat was offline yesterday afternoon and this morning.
I had to chat with customer service to ask if Doris would know if I returned the item and she would not tell me until I had given her the order number. Then she wanted my name and address and I asked why, if she had the order number, did she need that info? Shouldn't all that pull up when you key in the order number? Honestly.
The customer service person told me that not only did I have to pay for the return shipping, I would only get a store credit.
Did I show you the item?
It is a green glass pear.
I know. I am completely screwed if Doris ever finds this site.
But again, I ask myself, "What in Doris' time with me and her nine days in my house would ever lead her to believe that a green glass pear would be something I would want?"
That is the same basic question I asked when Doris sent us the cheap Chinese pressed wood nesting tables painted with hibiscus and hummingbirds. The cast-iron cat. The vase handpainted with purple flowers.
If you ever came to my house, you would understand why I ask these questions because truly, there is nothing in my house to indicate a liking of frou frou things and especially not of frou frou things that have no practical use and have to be dusted.
Again, I repeat - I know I am a bitch for complaining about this. I know there are people who have horrible things going on in their lives, far worse than getting a green glass pear as a birthday present.
If you want to think badly of me, go ahead. But if you have ever been the recipient of repeated unwanted gifts that have nothing to do with what you would ever want and are given to you despite someone's gentle advice that really, that is not something you would want, you might have a little bit of sympathy for my whining.
Stephanie, my sister in law, suggested I re-gift it back to Doris. I am willing to give that a shot. Stephanie also noted that Doris hadn't even given me the set. Not that I want three glass pears, but at least then I could afford some of the other items on the site.
In the mean time, I have looked through the site. There are some linen sheets that I thought might be nice. I would have to pay extra, but you know. Green glass pear $59, linen sheets $109. That's a $50 difference.
I looked more closely.
That was $109 for a sheet. One sheet. One flat sheet. An entire set would have been almost $300.
However - Doris did address my birthday card to "Gold Digger D." instead of "Gold Drunk." So there is some progress.
But given freely, despite Primo's gentle warnings that Mom, she probably won't like that. Mom, don't get that for her.
I am a bitch. I complain about gifts when they come from Doris. I complain because
1. Except for the Envirosax bags that roll up and fit into my purse and the Lands End flannel sheets that Primo begged them to get if they were going to get us anything, even though they harrumphed and asked why should they get us sheets and Primo had to explain that we had been coveting those sheets for three years but could not bring ourselves to spend that much on sheets but they were on sale and Lands End was offering free shipping so now, now was the time to get them, Doris has never sent me anything I have liked or kept. Except Primo kept the cast-iron cat.
2. Every time Doris sends me a present, after I have confirmed with the store that they will not tell Doris that I have returned the item, I have to pay to send it back and then I end up with a store credit to a store that sells stuff I do not want.
3. Which means I have to cast about desperately for a way to use the credit.
4. And I don't always do that, because the stores are usually very expensive and sell things I don't like.
In this case, I will have to drive to the post office on Saturday to mail the box, because it is a huge box and too big to bring to work on the bus and send from the mailroom.
I already went through a live chat with the store, only I had to wait and wait because despite their assurances that they are open until 9 p.m. every day, they are not and live chat was offline yesterday afternoon and this morning.
I had to chat with customer service to ask if Doris would know if I returned the item and she would not tell me until I had given her the order number. Then she wanted my name and address and I asked why, if she had the order number, did she need that info? Shouldn't all that pull up when you key in the order number? Honestly.
The customer service person told me that not only did I have to pay for the return shipping, I would only get a store credit.
Did I show you the item?
It is a green glass pear.
I know. I am completely screwed if Doris ever finds this site.
But again, I ask myself, "What in Doris' time with me and her nine days in my house would ever lead her to believe that a green glass pear would be something I would want?"
That is the same basic question I asked when Doris sent us the cheap Chinese pressed wood nesting tables painted with hibiscus and hummingbirds. The cast-iron cat. The vase handpainted with purple flowers.
If you ever came to my house, you would understand why I ask these questions because truly, there is nothing in my house to indicate a liking of frou frou things and especially not of frou frou things that have no practical use and have to be dusted.
Again, I repeat - I know I am a bitch for complaining about this. I know there are people who have horrible things going on in their lives, far worse than getting a green glass pear as a birthday present.
If you want to think badly of me, go ahead. But if you have ever been the recipient of repeated unwanted gifts that have nothing to do with what you would ever want and are given to you despite someone's gentle advice that really, that is not something you would want, you might have a little bit of sympathy for my whining.
Stephanie, my sister in law, suggested I re-gift it back to Doris. I am willing to give that a shot. Stephanie also noted that Doris hadn't even given me the set. Not that I want three glass pears, but at least then I could afford some of the other items on the site.
In the mean time, I have looked through the site. There are some linen sheets that I thought might be nice. I would have to pay extra, but you know. Green glass pear $59, linen sheets $109. That's a $50 difference.
I looked more closely.
That was $109 for a sheet. One sheet. One flat sheet. An entire set would have been almost $300.
However - Doris did address my birthday card to "Gold Digger D." instead of "Gold Drunk." So there is some progress.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
In which there is another fundraiser
Primo: I need to talk to you about something.
Me: No.
Primo: You don't even know what it is!
Me: When you start with, "I need to talk to you about something," it always ends with something I don't like.
Primo: This isn't bad. I'll do everything.
Me: Definitely no now.
Primo: You won't have to do a single thing.
Me: No. Way.
Primo: I spoke to Cassandra McCauly today.
Me: She wants to run for governor.
Primo: Yes. I want to have a fundraiser for her here.
Me: No. I am not doing another fundraiser.
Primo: You won't have to do anything.
Me: I'm not doing anything.
Primo: Nothing. I will do everything.
Me: I am not cooking.
Primo: I will get volunteers to bring the food.
Me: The house has to be cleaned.
Primo: I know. I will vacuum.
Me: It's not just that.
Primo: I will vacuum the living room and the dining room.
Me: The bathroom has to be cleaned.
Primo: I will vacuum the living room, the dining room, and the bathroom.
Me: No. The bathroom has to be cleaned. The toilet and the sink and the tub.
Primo: I will clean the toilet and the sink.
Me: And the tub.
Primo: That's what a shower curtain is for.
Me: Do you know how many times I have pulled the shower curtain back to check the tub at other peoples' houses?
Primo: I don't care about the tub. Nobody will be taking a shower. I don't care.
Me: But other people will. And they will blame me if it's not clean.
Me: No.
Primo: You don't even know what it is!
Me: When you start with, "I need to talk to you about something," it always ends with something I don't like.
Primo: This isn't bad. I'll do everything.
Me: Definitely no now.
Primo: You won't have to do a single thing.
Me: No. Way.
Primo: I spoke to Cassandra McCauly today.
Me: She wants to run for governor.
Primo: Yes. I want to have a fundraiser for her here.
Me: No. I am not doing another fundraiser.
Primo: You won't have to do anything.
Me: I'm not doing anything.
Primo: Nothing. I will do everything.
Me: I am not cooking.
Primo: I will get volunteers to bring the food.
Me: The house has to be cleaned.
Primo: I know. I will vacuum.
Me: It's not just that.
Primo: I will vacuum the living room and the dining room.
Me: The bathroom has to be cleaned.
Primo: I will vacuum the living room, the dining room, and the bathroom.
Me: No. The bathroom has to be cleaned. The toilet and the sink and the tub.
Primo: I will clean the toilet and the sink.
Me: And the tub.
Primo: That's what a shower curtain is for.
Me: Do you know how many times I have pulled the shower curtain back to check the tub at other peoples' houses?
Primo: I don't care about the tub. Nobody will be taking a shower. I don't care.
Me: But other people will. And they will blame me if it's not clean.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
In which Primo is praised for his protest t-shirt by someone who asked breathlessly if he had been arrested
Primo spent Friday and most of Saturday in the state capital with his party peeps, protesting. There were speakers from around the country and there was singing and drum beating and of course, there was a t-shirt.
The t-shirt was about the main protest event - a protest that has been going on for a couple of years now. I don't know what they are protesting against or for. The main thing these days seems to be that the protesters not being allowed to protest in the capitol building without a permit.
There is a case to be made that protests against the government should not require a permit, but there is also the case to be made that people who are trying to conduct business on behalf of The People should be able to go on about their business without having to listen to protesters in the capitol rotunda. I am all for people doing what they want, but once they start to annoy me, they need to knock that crap off.
I am not particularly tolerant of noise when I am trying to work. Now that I am no longer in an office and am stuck in cubicle land, I am subject to the endless sounds of eating of dry granola and carrot sticks by the woman who works behind me. She is also always on the phone, which is what happens at work sometimes, but then she makes personal calls that have been quite loud. And she brings in re-heated French fries, the smell of which makes me gag.
She never shuts up and she never stops eating, so last week, when we had our ANNUAL meetings with the three managers from France, Spain, and England, when she sent an email to everyone in our usually not phone-talking group because the people we deal with are in different time zones asking us to "keep it down to a dull roar," I wanted to march over to her desk and ask, "Really? REALLY? YOU are asking US to be quiet?"
But I didn't because I am a big fat chicken. Instead, I just slap on headphones when she starts eating and I listen to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.
Where was I?
Oh. The right to protest without a permit. It's a legitimate issue, but don't protest around me when I am trying to get something done or trying to get somewhere. You have a right to protest. You don't have a right to keep me from doing what I want to do.
So Primo went to the protest. He promised me he would not get arrested. There have been numerous arrests over the past few weeks. We agreed that he would not get arrested, even if he thinks it's a good cause.
He returned with a t-shirt about the protest. Let's call it the "Protesting for No Apparent Reason" protest, or "PNARP." He was wearing the shirt. We walked into town to watch a band perform at a town festival. A woman came up to Primo and gushed, "Were you there?"
Primo: Yes. I went today.
Woman: Oh my! Did you get arrested?
Primo: No.
Woman [look of disappointment]
Me [dryly]: It is not in our financial interest for him to be arrested.
Woman [confused look]
Me: If someone wants to make a point for The People by being arrested, that's fine. But we are not interested in spending $1,000 to make that point.
Woman draws back, smiles uncertainly. I am pretty sure she thought I was a weird bitch who wasn't properly supportive of The Cause.
She is correct.
The t-shirt was about the main protest event - a protest that has been going on for a couple of years now. I don't know what they are protesting against or for. The main thing these days seems to be that the protesters not being allowed to protest in the capitol building without a permit.
There is a case to be made that protests against the government should not require a permit, but there is also the case to be made that people who are trying to conduct business on behalf of The People should be able to go on about their business without having to listen to protesters in the capitol rotunda. I am all for people doing what they want, but once they start to annoy me, they need to knock that crap off.
I am not particularly tolerant of noise when I am trying to work. Now that I am no longer in an office and am stuck in cubicle land, I am subject to the endless sounds of eating of dry granola and carrot sticks by the woman who works behind me. She is also always on the phone, which is what happens at work sometimes, but then she makes personal calls that have been quite loud. And she brings in re-heated French fries, the smell of which makes me gag.
She never shuts up and she never stops eating, so last week, when we had our ANNUAL meetings with the three managers from France, Spain, and England, when she sent an email to everyone in our usually not phone-talking group because the people we deal with are in different time zones asking us to "keep it down to a dull roar," I wanted to march over to her desk and ask, "Really? REALLY? YOU are asking US to be quiet?"
But I didn't because I am a big fat chicken. Instead, I just slap on headphones when she starts eating and I listen to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.
Where was I?
Oh. The right to protest without a permit. It's a legitimate issue, but don't protest around me when I am trying to get something done or trying to get somewhere. You have a right to protest. You don't have a right to keep me from doing what I want to do.
So Primo went to the protest. He promised me he would not get arrested. There have been numerous arrests over the past few weeks. We agreed that he would not get arrested, even if he thinks it's a good cause.
He returned with a t-shirt about the protest. Let's call it the "Protesting for No Apparent Reason" protest, or "PNARP." He was wearing the shirt. We walked into town to watch a band perform at a town festival. A woman came up to Primo and gushed, "Were you there?"
Primo: Yes. I went today.
Woman: Oh my! Did you get arrested?
Primo: No.
Woman [look of disappointment]
Me [dryly]: It is not in our financial interest for him to be arrested.
Woman [confused look]
Me: If someone wants to make a point for The People by being arrested, that's fine. But we are not interested in spending $1,000 to make that point.
Woman draws back, smiles uncertainly. I am pretty sure she thought I was a weird bitch who wasn't properly supportive of The Cause.
She is correct.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
In which we highlight the differences between my mom and Sly and Doris
What my mom does that bugs me (note that none of these things are bad at all)
1. Asks me to go to church to pray for my brother, who has been having some health problems
2. Uses a lot of italics and bold and ALL CAPS!!!! in her emails.
3. Sends me very detailed emails about what's going on in her life
What Sly and Doris do that bug me
1. Tell Primo he is a bad son
2. Make vicious comments about everyone they know, probably including Primo
3. Complain about everyone
4. Criticize everyone. Primo sent me this message from chez Sly and Doris:
1. Asks me to go to church to pray for my brother, who has been having some health problems
2. Uses a lot of italics and bold and ALL CAPS!!!! in her emails.
3. Sends me very detailed emails about what's going on in her life
What Sly and Doris do that bug me
1. Tell Primo he is a bad son
2. Make vicious comments about everyone they know, probably including Primo
3. Complain about everyone
4. Criticize everyone. Primo sent me this message from chez Sly and Doris:
We were watching tennis today. There was some young girl who won a contest singing the national anthem at the U.S. Open. He didn't just say that she wasn't good (although she was at least OK); he said that it was an insult to any person with a sense of patriotism to pick anything less than a great singer for the anthem.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
In which Primo makes the semi-annual haj to Sly and Doris' house
Primo is visiting Sly and Doris so there will be lots of good stories. Unfortunately, they do come at a price. Primo has to live through this.
1. Sly had a list of chores for Primo. Primo is supposed to replace the shower head and supposed to power wash the porch screens. He wrote to me:
Primo: I'm cranky. They bought a pressure washer and want me to clean the "screenarium." They claim that they tried hiring someone but he didn't do it right. Jack should be doing that kind of work.
My dad is eager to make excuses for Jack. He doesn't seem to think Jack owes them as much as I think he does.
2. I wrote to Doris about how Primo and I had investigated hiring a cleaning lady but it would be too expensive. I told her the story of being on a business trip to the Middle East and talking to one of the women in the office there, who was horrified when she realized that I did not have daily help. "But who cleans your house?" she asked.
"I do," I said. I explained to her that in the US, it is only rich people who have maids.
I mentioned that story to Doris and she got all upset, telling Primo on the phone that she and Sly have a cleaning lady but they're not rich.
I pointed out to Primo that actually, his parents are quite well off, and that usually, "maid" refers to someone who comes every day whereas (I think) a cleaning lady is more of an occasional things.
Doris then had to write to me to tell me that they were not rich. Not rich!
I wanted to write back and ask, "And yet you spend hundreds of dollars on booze, you have a cleaning lady, a gardener, a big-screen TV. You eat out all the time. You are not poor."
In the letter, I also mentioned that my boss had been acting erratic and irritable and my co-workers and I were speculating that he might have early-onset dementia or might have a drinking problem. I commented that we all walk on eggshells around him because we don't know what might set him off.
She had nothing to say about that.
1. Sly had a list of chores for Primo. Primo is supposed to replace the shower head and supposed to power wash the porch screens. He wrote to me:
Primo: I'm cranky. They bought a pressure washer and want me to clean the "screenarium." They claim that they tried hiring someone but he didn't do it right. Jack should be doing that kind of work.
Me: What? WHy did they BUY a pressure washer?
And how does someone not do it right for pressure washing?
and why won't they ask Jack to do this stuff?
Primo: They
say that the guy who didn't do it right did a half-assed job. You
hired Amish Bruce, so you know how things work sometimes.
Maybe I should ask Jack to do this stuff. I've been mad at him for years because of his effect on their long-term financial picture. He's never going to come up with money to pay them back, so in my opinion helping them is the least he could do.
Maybe I should ask Jack to do this stuff. I've been mad at him for years because of his effect on their long-term financial picture. He's never going to come up with money to pay them back, so in my opinion helping them is the least he could do.
My dad is eager to make excuses for Jack. He doesn't seem to think Jack owes them as much as I think he does.
2. I wrote to Doris about how Primo and I had investigated hiring a cleaning lady but it would be too expensive. I told her the story of being on a business trip to the Middle East and talking to one of the women in the office there, who was horrified when she realized that I did not have daily help. "But who cleans your house?" she asked.
"I do," I said. I explained to her that in the US, it is only rich people who have maids.
I mentioned that story to Doris and she got all upset, telling Primo on the phone that she and Sly have a cleaning lady but they're not rich.
I pointed out to Primo that actually, his parents are quite well off, and that usually, "maid" refers to someone who comes every day whereas (I think) a cleaning lady is more of an occasional things.
Doris then had to write to me to tell me that they were not rich. Not rich!
I wanted to write back and ask, "And yet you spend hundreds of dollars on booze, you have a cleaning lady, a gardener, a big-screen TV. You eat out all the time. You are not poor."
In the letter, I also mentioned that my boss had been acting erratic and irritable and my co-workers and I were speculating that he might have early-onset dementia or might have a drinking problem. I commented that we all walk on eggshells around him because we don't know what might set him off.
She had nothing to say about that.
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