It's Only Common Courtesy, People

When you are done using the copy machine, hit the “Clear” button.

You can’t miss it. It is the big red button that says “CLEAR” on it.

When I walk up and throw a handful of papers in the feeder, and press start, I expect 1 simple copy of each piece of paper. Nothing fancy.

If I wanted uncollated, double sided, stapled in the bottom right corner, with offset displacement in the finisher, I would select all of that myself.

It’s just like flushing the toilet when you’re done; press CLEAR before you walk away.

Riding the rails

A couple of years ago I started to look into riding the commuter train to work.

Gas prices weren’t bad then, but the traffic was. We live about 13 miles from my job. On an average morning it takes 30 – 45 minutes to go those 13 miles. And that is just regular traffic, no accidents. God forbid there be an accident. Then we are talking an hour, or hour and a half to get there. And if the weather is bad? Forget about it. I would be better off to just stay home.

I knew a couple of people in my department rode the train in. So I looked up the web site to check it out. A monthly pass was $50. Not too bad, I guess. But I was told that our company issued them annually, and they are not prorated. This was about September or October, so I decided to think about it until the first of the year. Then if I was going to get one, it would be in January.

Of course I forget all about it.

So a year goes by and the traffic is worse. Actually, it is probably about the same, but my patience is less.

Then about February or March of this year I remember the train again. Gas prices were starting to creep up, so I decided to look more closely into it. I talk to one of the ladies that I know rides and ask about the schedules and getting the pass. The schedules worked out to where I have to leave the house only about 30 minutes early than I normally do, and I would get home about 30 minutes later. (Unless it was an accident or bad weather day, and then I would be home about 30 minutes earlier!) She gives me the name of the guy at the company who processes our applications, because we get a CORPARATE DISCOUNT. My eyes were spinning at that news.

Boy howdy, what a discount! I only have to pay $55 for THE WHOLE YEAR. And that is for the rail and buses. SCORE!

So I have been not driving most days since early spring. It is totally great.

The first day I was going to ride, my husband took me to the train station and waited with me. To make sure I didn’t get on the wrong train. He said “if you get stuck somewhere, just call me and I will come and get you”. I felt like a little kid going to school on the bus for the first time.

I was a little nervous. So I scoped out someone wearing a company ID badge, and I followed her. I got on the car she got on, I sat right behind her, and when she got up I got up.

Totally unnecessary of course. It is a straight shot. The trains are either east bound or west bound. I get on at the 3rd station, and get off 2 stations later. The shuttle from the station to my building, parks by a sign declaring the route. The driver drops us at the front door of our building, and picks us back up there at the end of the day. No sweat.

The only bad point; as gas prices are getting higher, it is getting more crowded. I end up standing up a lot. And getting out of the parking lot at my home station is always a challenge. Some days I end up sitting in a line of cars, for longer than the ride on the train was!

All in all, it is great fun. I get to people watch.

Stay tuned for: Commuting Views; The Newlyweds.

What is wrong with people?

Flip-flops are NOT business casual.

They do NOT, under any circumstances, belong in an office building, being worn with a dress.

They belong on beaches, at the water park, at the amusement park, or in the shower room at the gym. They are outside, having fun foot wear.

I don’t care that it has a heel.
I don’t care that it has pretty colors on it.
I don’t care that it has beads or glitter or flowers.
I don’t care that the between the toe strappy thing is cloth and not plastic.

I don’t care WHAT you do to it. No matter how much you dress it up or try to disguise it, it doesn’t work.

IT IS STILL JUST A FLIP-FLOP.

It's Family Reunion Time Again

My husband’s family has a Family Reunion every year.  In his immediate family it is just him and his sister, but his parents both come from large families.  Aunts and uncles and cousins galore!

It was very daunting the first year I went.  After all, there is only one of me for them to remember, but I had to try and remember all of them.  I made sure and took lots of pictures, and spent a lot of time looking at them going “now who was this again and how are they related”?  Everyone was so nice too.  They all made my girls and I feel welcome and part of the family from the very first.

For the last 6 years it has been at my in-laws house.  It has also at times been in Oregon, and one year it was at a camp ground.

It is an all weekend event, with scores of people coming and going, some staying the night – like we do.  On Sunday there is an official family meeting were they go over any significant news, births, deaths and a vote for the next year’s reunion. Then pictures are taken of the different family groups.

And there is always a ton food.  People bring food to contribute to the spread, but still.  I am in awe of my mother in law, housing and feeding THAT many people for the whole weekend, and without hardly batting an eye or breaking a sweat. It is the same way at the holidays too.  I couldn’t do it, even if I had a house big enough to accommodate everyone.  I would be a wreck having that many people in my house, with them all coming and going and eating.

My poor husband – he has to put up with my nutty mother. I definitely got the better end of the in laws deal.  

THEY are picking on us

Who is THEY? THEY are the city.

We received a notice in the mail last week complaining about the "weathered, unpainted wood" on our house.

I walked around the house and looked. There are maybe 2 or 3 spots where the trim wood is getting bad and needs replaced. The TRIM, not like whole sections of the side of the house.

Which we were going to do anyway. No, really. We have painted 2 sides of the house already. We were going to do the trim after we finished painting the other 2 sides.

Really!

It made me mad though. There are A LOT of other houses in our neighborhood that are in much more need of stuff being done to it, than ours. I won't even get into the fact that our one neighbor has had huge, downed, tree limbs partially hanging over the fence into our back yard for well over a year.

One time we were in the middle of fixing the brakes on the car, and had to run to the auto parts store. (I told you I had a Handy Hubby. He fixes cars too!) So we left the car in the driveway with the wheels off, up on jacks, with some tools laying around. It was CLEARLY being worked on. We were gone maybe 10 minutes. What did we find when we got back? Yep, a notice from the city about non-running vehicles. Sheesh!

Anyway, after we had received the letter and were driving down the street, I angerly pointed out each and every house that needed something done to it. I ranted. I raved. I questioned why WE were being picked on when, clearly, there was a plethora of other houses for the city to attack, some of them in MUCH dire need of attention.

It was calmly pointed out to me that all those other houses may very well have received letters and they were just ignoring them.

Hmph. I hadn't thought of that.

Handy Hubby

I have a Handy Hubby.

I try to not take it for granted, but it is hard sometimes because things just get done.  Like while  on a break from mowing the lawn, I mention that the grass is mostly just folding over instead of being cut.  By the time I am down resting/cooling off and go back out, the blade has been sharpened.  Little things like that.

And big things, like when the air conditioner quits working on a Sunday, when the high is 101.  If it was just me, I would have had to spend the night somewhere, like a motel, to keep from calling the repair man on a Sunday.  But he goes outside, pops off the panel, looks at things, wiggles things, tests the electrical current, and decides it is probably this part.  Which started working after all the wiggling.  But he looked up the part for future reference, just in case the wiggle wears off.  

Labor charges would be for a Sunday repair call: astronomical

Part that works after wiggling: $300

Having a Handy Hubby: Priceless

Visiting Down Memory Lane

I am in Ohio visiting a friend.

I have also visited: the park where we used to hang out, the best sausage and onion pizza place EVER so we could eat in said park, the Custard Stand behind the elementary school (which is actually named The Dairy Freeze and not The Custard Stand, even though that is what we ALWAYS called it), the elementary school to look for the time capsule our 5th grade class made, the elementary school's office to inquire about the time capsule because we couldn't find the plaque and it turns out they LOST it and nobody can find it or knows if it was dug up or stolen or what, around my old neighborhood to look at the house I grew up in and I did manage to resist the urge to go knock on the door and ask for a tour because the outside looks so totally different I can't imagine what the inside looks like, and the cemetary.

At the cemetary I visited my Grandma and Grandpa Ballou, cousin Chuckie, (great) Aunt Sis, Grandma and Grandpa Page and my dad and step-mom. Thankfully they are all in the same cemetary.

I found everyone without too much walking around. I remember a time I spent a good hour or so wandering around looking for Aunt Sis. Right section, just not far enough back.

My dad died in 1996, my step mom in 1998 (I think). I was distressed when I first saw my dad's grave and the new looking heap of dirt below it. I could not believe that someone (my half brother?, his daughter?, a step someone?) had died and was burried in the same plot. Then I finally noticed the next marker back had 2008 date. Apparently the markers are at the foot of the grave and not the head.

But you know what else? There was no plaque on my step-mom's side. You know the little plaque that has the first name and dates of birth and death? My dad's was there because my step-mom made sure he got one. Her's wasn't there becuase apparently her family never bought her one. Can you believe it? Her family wouldn't pay for a marker for her grave. How sad is that? I went by the office and got the information to see how much they cost. $425. So ten years ago, maybe $300-$350. How could they not do that for their own mother?

I just don't get some people.