As I was leaving work last week, a preschooler came barreling down the hallway, bursting with excitement. He jumped to where I was, blocking me from the exit.
"Miss Jackie, Miss Jackie- guess what?"
"What, Mason?"
"I get to go and get my kindergarten shots today," he said with a huge, almost toothless grin. The way he said kindergarten was my first indication that this kid has been seriously misinformed.
"Oh," I said. "Are you nervous?"
The most sincere expression of confusion flashed across his little face, "Why would I be nervous?"
I looked at his mom, whose expression screamed "If you tell him I will kill you with my mind," and told him to have fun and gave him a hug for good luck. Then I watched him skip to their car and hop into the back seat.
Poor kid.
It made me think of that naivete that all kids have, and that all adults secretly long for. Sooner or later in the process of growing up, we all turn into cynical world-weary and wholly un-trusting individuals and if you are like me, you long for those blinders that I dropped somewhere between kindergarten and 22. Ignorance really is bliss sometimes.
So, next time you read a news story about another murder, or someone/something betrays you, take a note from the preschool playbook: just put the emphasis on a different word.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Ian
So, in lieu of actually coming up with any original ideas, because I am not having much success to be honest, I have decided to introduce you all to someone very near and dear to my heart: my brother Ian. Now, my sorry attempt at a proper introduction won't even come close to doing him justice, but it is my duty to try. Also- I am required to post something and I am seriously out of ideas. He visited this weekend and I was, as I always am, sad to see him go.
Ian and I are 5 years apart, and have a sibling in between us, but we are more alike than anyone else in the family. We look alike, think alike and have some of the same experiences. He is the single coolest kid alive.
He will always be that bubbly little kid, no matter how tall he gets. His football coach once told my dad, " I have never seen anyone smile so much while they are getting the stuffing kicked out of 'em!" We have dubbed him the "Danny Zuko" of our family because there isn't one sport that Ian won't try. Basketball, baseball, track, football and now golf. What a kid.
He is wise beyond his years, which is exactly what he tells my mom in order to explain the less than perfect report cards she receives quarterly. He refuses to let school get in the way :)
The kid got the best of both worlds, with my mom's quick wit ( and unique brand of self-sacrificing humor) and my dad's mellow demeanor. The only one living at home, he caught on quickly to the way things work in the Walter house. He has my mom figured out, and can weasel his way out of anything. He has also discovered that she will never stop constantly striving to embarrass you. I swear, the woman goes out of her way to see your face turn red. That took me years to figure out and master.
I hope he never changes
Ian and I are 5 years apart, and have a sibling in between us, but we are more alike than anyone else in the family. We look alike, think alike and have some of the same experiences. He is the single coolest kid alive.
He will always be that bubbly little kid, no matter how tall he gets. His football coach once told my dad, " I have never seen anyone smile so much while they are getting the stuffing kicked out of 'em!" We have dubbed him the "Danny Zuko" of our family because there isn't one sport that Ian won't try. Basketball, baseball, track, football and now golf. What a kid.
He is wise beyond his years, which is exactly what he tells my mom in order to explain the less than perfect report cards she receives quarterly. He refuses to let school get in the way :)
The kid got the best of both worlds, with my mom's quick wit ( and unique brand of self-sacrificing humor) and my dad's mellow demeanor. The only one living at home, he caught on quickly to the way things work in the Walter house. He has my mom figured out, and can weasel his way out of anything. He has also discovered that she will never stop constantly striving to embarrass you. I swear, the woman goes out of her way to see your face turn red. That took me years to figure out and master.
I hope he never changes
Monday, March 1, 2010
Get it?
So, I have learned (mainly through experience unfortunately) that my humor is not always understood and/or appreciated. Don't get me wrong, I know the moments in which seriousness and professionalism are required, I just don't always exercise that ability. Like for instance, in restaurants, I tend to be a little inappropriate, especially if I am hungry.
This weekend I went out to eat at Olive Garden with my mom. I ordered the endless soup and salad like I always do. The waiter came back after my first bowl and asked me if I wanted another. I looked at him with a straight face and said "Duh." The next time he came back, he asked me again and I said "Hit me." After a long, very awkward blank stare, I rephrased my somehow confusing response into a, "Yes please." He also tried to take my soup away from me before I was done. That is the single worst crime you could commit against me. Let's just say he learned his lesson. Now, he will always think twice before lurching for a customer's unfinished dish.
It's not like I don't understand proper etiquette in restaurants, but I am just always striving to lighten the mood. There is no need for things to be serious all the time.
The problem with this kind of self-sacrificing, often inappropriate humor is that it becomes my fallback. Awkward situations, tense moments, or even just boredom- I always resort to something that will change the mood and will always insert something embarrassing about myself into the equation. It is a guaranteed laugh.
So, is there a remedy? Who knows. But its way too much fun to correct.
This weekend I went out to eat at Olive Garden with my mom. I ordered the endless soup and salad like I always do. The waiter came back after my first bowl and asked me if I wanted another. I looked at him with a straight face and said "Duh." The next time he came back, he asked me again and I said "Hit me." After a long, very awkward blank stare, I rephrased my somehow confusing response into a, "Yes please." He also tried to take my soup away from me before I was done. That is the single worst crime you could commit against me. Let's just say he learned his lesson. Now, he will always think twice before lurching for a customer's unfinished dish.
It's not like I don't understand proper etiquette in restaurants, but I am just always striving to lighten the mood. There is no need for things to be serious all the time.
The problem with this kind of self-sacrificing, often inappropriate humor is that it becomes my fallback. Awkward situations, tense moments, or even just boredom- I always resort to something that will change the mood and will always insert something embarrassing about myself into the equation. It is a guaranteed laugh.
So, is there a remedy? Who knows. But its way too much fun to correct.
Monday, February 22, 2010
A lesson in constant humiliation
Being a daycare worker/baby-sitter sets you up for some very important things. You can learn responsibility by having to take care of someone other than yourself. You learn basic dos and don'ts of children (i.e. if a child says that their stomach hurts, you should translate that into "get me to the bathroom now!"). And everyone I have talked to that has ever had the joy of working with children at a young age has agreed: it is the single best form of birth-control out there. Any kids I have-and my husband- will be working at a daycare. For me, though, there is one over-riding theme I have learned: working with children is a lesson in constant humiliation.
Kids tell it like it is, they don't pick up on social cues and they certainly don't abide by the social norms. They will let you know when you aren't looking your best, they have no problem pointing and laughing at your every mistake and they often embarrass you in public.
One time in particular, I was watching a kindergartner and her brother. They both take golf lessons at Mozingo, so one summer afternoon I drove them out there. Now, the extent of Miss Jackie's knowledge on golf doesn't go past the fact that it involves some sort of club. So when we finally caught up with the group, the kindergartner caught wind of this fact and pounced. had been exercising extreme caution around her all day, because I was aware that she would most certainly berate me if she found out. However, she got out of the cart to set her ball on the tee and she asked Miss Jackie for her iron. I only had three clubs to choose from, so I thought my chances were pretty good. They weren't. I grabbed the wrong club and had to reveal my secret to her. Not only did she laugh so hard that he stopped breathing, but she proceeded to announce this fact to everyone that we passed on the course. Everyone. Every time she said "Miss Jackie doesn't even know how to golf!" to each passing stranger I would just wave sheepishly and push harder on the gas.
I also watched a little girl who had swimming every day. I made it through half the summer before anyone found out that I couldn't swim. After she found out, it was hell on earth. She would eye me every time I so much as dipped my toes in the water. She even talked to one of her swim teachers, the leader of the 1st and 2nd graders, to see if he could add me to the group. When I told her mom, she laughed but came to the conclusion that it wasn't a bad idea. She informed me they do offer orivate lessons. Gee, thanks.
Now, these experiences aren't all bad. They keep me very grounded. It is good for someone to put you in your place every so often. It has also aided in my efforts of self-discovery. There are a lot of things that Miss Jackie doesn't know how to do! And I fear that I have only skimmed the surface. Here is what I have so far-
Things Miss Jackie can't do:
Swim
Golf
Sing
Catch a football
Play soccer
Cook
Whistle
Kids tell it like it is, they don't pick up on social cues and they certainly don't abide by the social norms. They will let you know when you aren't looking your best, they have no problem pointing and laughing at your every mistake and they often embarrass you in public.
One time in particular, I was watching a kindergartner and her brother. They both take golf lessons at Mozingo, so one summer afternoon I drove them out there. Now, the extent of Miss Jackie's knowledge on golf doesn't go past the fact that it involves some sort of club. So when we finally caught up with the group, the kindergartner caught wind of this fact and pounced. had been exercising extreme caution around her all day, because I was aware that she would most certainly berate me if she found out. However, she got out of the cart to set her ball on the tee and she asked Miss Jackie for her iron. I only had three clubs to choose from, so I thought my chances were pretty good. They weren't. I grabbed the wrong club and had to reveal my secret to her. Not only did she laugh so hard that he stopped breathing, but she proceeded to announce this fact to everyone that we passed on the course. Everyone. Every time she said "Miss Jackie doesn't even know how to golf!" to each passing stranger I would just wave sheepishly and push harder on the gas.
I also watched a little girl who had swimming every day. I made it through half the summer before anyone found out that I couldn't swim. After she found out, it was hell on earth. She would eye me every time I so much as dipped my toes in the water. She even talked to one of her swim teachers, the leader of the 1st and 2nd graders, to see if he could add me to the group. When I told her mom, she laughed but came to the conclusion that it wasn't a bad idea. She informed me they do offer orivate lessons. Gee, thanks.
Now, these experiences aren't all bad. They keep me very grounded. It is good for someone to put you in your place every so often. It has also aided in my efforts of self-discovery. There are a lot of things that Miss Jackie doesn't know how to do! And I fear that I have only skimmed the surface. Here is what I have so far-
Things Miss Jackie can't do:
Swim
Golf
Sing
Catch a football
Play soccer
Cook
Whistle
Monday, February 15, 2010
Miss Jackie and Mr. Hyde
I have something to confess. I have a split personality (probably more than one to be honest). You, my loyal followers, and most of my friends, know me just as Jackie. A weird, impatient,disorganized terrible cook who isn't that fond of children.
However, every day at 2:30 I morph into my Dr. Jekyll: Miss Jackie. She still has the basic characteristics, but there are some HUGE differences as well. Miss Jackie doesn't curse. Miss Jackie is patient. And Miss Jackie doesn't hate children (GASP!). Now, before you begin to worry, Miss Jackie doesn't exist for long. She only takes form for a few hours in the middle of each day. And I don't have take any elixir to summon her arrival; so she can disappear at any given second.
Miss Jackie is kind. She gets ice packs for bruised knees and band-aids for "cuts" ( I swear, that school hemorrhages band-aids! Sometimes I can't even see the alleged "cut" that a child claims to have- but maybe that's just Jackie talking). She will play games and give hugs and give piggy-back rides. She goes sledding, roller-skating, plays soccer and kickball. And no matter what, she always lets you win.
This woman is clearly insane.
Miss Jackie hangs around a little bit longer on Wednesdays. Every Wednesday, Miss Jackie buckles two little boys in her car. She explains to Dylan (again) the importance of seat belts and why we must put them on EVERY time we get into the car. She listens to "Fishin in the Dark" every Wednesday on the way home. She cooks! She watches hours of I-Carly reruns and Madagascar specials and Go Diego Go. She gives horsie-rides (Yep, you read that right. Miss Jackie goes to class from 9-2:30, works from 2:30-5:30 and then gets downs on all fours and lets little boys get on her back. Like a horse).
I hope you never have the unfortunate coincidence of running into Miss Jackie. If you see her on campus unsupervised please notify the proper authorities. She is not of sound mind and could be considered a danger to herself and others.
However, every day at 2:30 I morph into my Dr. Jekyll: Miss Jackie. She still has the basic characteristics, but there are some HUGE differences as well. Miss Jackie doesn't curse. Miss Jackie is patient. And Miss Jackie doesn't hate children (GASP!). Now, before you begin to worry, Miss Jackie doesn't exist for long. She only takes form for a few hours in the middle of each day. And I don't have take any elixir to summon her arrival; so she can disappear at any given second.
Miss Jackie is kind. She gets ice packs for bruised knees and band-aids for "cuts" ( I swear, that school hemorrhages band-aids! Sometimes I can't even see the alleged "cut" that a child claims to have- but maybe that's just Jackie talking). She will play games and give hugs and give piggy-back rides. She goes sledding, roller-skating, plays soccer and kickball. And no matter what, she always lets you win.
This woman is clearly insane.
Miss Jackie hangs around a little bit longer on Wednesdays. Every Wednesday, Miss Jackie buckles two little boys in her car. She explains to Dylan (again) the importance of seat belts and why we must put them on EVERY time we get into the car. She listens to "Fishin in the Dark" every Wednesday on the way home. She cooks! She watches hours of I-Carly reruns and Madagascar specials and Go Diego Go. She gives horsie-rides (Yep, you read that right. Miss Jackie goes to class from 9-2:30, works from 2:30-5:30 and then gets downs on all fours and lets little boys get on her back. Like a horse).
I hope you never have the unfortunate coincidence of running into Miss Jackie. If you see her on campus unsupervised please notify the proper authorities. She is not of sound mind and could be considered a danger to herself and others.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Snowbuddy's perfect
I thought that it was fitting with today's snowfall to go ahead and go on my seasonal weather rant. I can't believe this is my fifth post and I have yet to let you, my loyal audience of eight, in on one of the things I love. Here we go.
I love snow. Always have and I am confident that I always will. It is not only beautiful, but I believe that it has the power to change the mood of the day. Seriously- it makes me a different person. I am usually (and by usually, I mean 98% of the time) a big kid. I have grown up a little, but overall mental capacity and attention span of about a nine-year old (ten on good days). Snow days decrease my maturity level by at least 2-3 years. Last major snowfall we had, I took the kids I baby-sit to go sledding. I swear, I almost don't remember what happened. What 22-year old in their right mind shares a sled with two little kids? The best part was when we decided to conquer the HUGE ramp at the bottom of the hill. When I finally landed, I was sure I was dead. Never again (probably).
Needless to say, this was my kind of winter.
Now, cynics out there- just open up your mind for a minute and think about snow. Except, go against every adult, mature, responsible instinct you have (which, by the way, are the words I choose to live by) and forget about driving, or walking to class or shoveling. Just think about the snow. See... isn't it nice?
Now, on to my qualm with you, the dissenters, and a majority of the American public. First of all, all those who whine incessantly about winter- Welcome to Maryville. We are smack-dab in the middle of the country. Look around- there are no beaches or palm trees, not one grain of sand, so it will not be 75 degrees year-round. Sorry. These "seasons" that you might have learned about before you came to college still exist here. There's spring, summer, fall and-you guessed it- winter. Winters, just like winters all across the globe, are cold.
Sorry to be so snarky. But- c'mon! All I hear is person after person telling me they hate winter. You don't have to love it, but you have to figure out a way to deal with it without expressing your opinion about it every five minutes! So, stop whining. It's unattractive, unoriginal ( everybody and their dog hates winter) and irritating. And one last thing winter-haters; have you ever considered that some of us don't like summer that much? Granted, it is a very select few of the population, but we do exist. I hate sweating, and being sun burnt all the time and not being able to wear my Christmas socks... I'm not that fond of tank tops, I can never find shorts that fit me right and I HATE having to listen to every song containing the word "summer" in it for three straight months.
Whew. Okay, I'm done.
I better wrap this up. I'm sure I have already lost most of my viewing audience (6 people) to TV or facebook. Anyone still here, if you want to comment on my strong feelings about winter- sound off!
Thanks for reading!
I love snow. Always have and I am confident that I always will. It is not only beautiful, but I believe that it has the power to change the mood of the day. Seriously- it makes me a different person. I am usually (and by usually, I mean 98% of the time) a big kid. I have grown up a little, but overall mental capacity and attention span of about a nine-year old (ten on good days). Snow days decrease my maturity level by at least 2-3 years. Last major snowfall we had, I took the kids I baby-sit to go sledding. I swear, I almost don't remember what happened. What 22-year old in their right mind shares a sled with two little kids? The best part was when we decided to conquer the HUGE ramp at the bottom of the hill. When I finally landed, I was sure I was dead. Never again (probably).
Needless to say, this was my kind of winter.
Now, cynics out there- just open up your mind for a minute and think about snow. Except, go against every adult, mature, responsible instinct you have (which, by the way, are the words I choose to live by) and forget about driving, or walking to class or shoveling. Just think about the snow. See... isn't it nice?
Now, on to my qualm with you, the dissenters, and a majority of the American public. First of all, all those who whine incessantly about winter- Welcome to Maryville. We are smack-dab in the middle of the country. Look around- there are no beaches or palm trees, not one grain of sand, so it will not be 75 degrees year-round. Sorry. These "seasons" that you might have learned about before you came to college still exist here. There's spring, summer, fall and-you guessed it- winter. Winters, just like winters all across the globe, are cold.
Sorry to be so snarky. But- c'mon! All I hear is person after person telling me they hate winter. You don't have to love it, but you have to figure out a way to deal with it without expressing your opinion about it every five minutes! So, stop whining. It's unattractive, unoriginal ( everybody and their dog hates winter) and irritating. And one last thing winter-haters; have you ever considered that some of us don't like summer that much? Granted, it is a very select few of the population, but we do exist. I hate sweating, and being sun burnt all the time and not being able to wear my Christmas socks... I'm not that fond of tank tops, I can never find shorts that fit me right and I HATE having to listen to every song containing the word "summer" in it for three straight months.
Whew. Okay, I'm done.
I better wrap this up. I'm sure I have already lost most of my viewing audience (6 people) to TV or facebook. Anyone still here, if you want to comment on my strong feelings about winter- sound off!
Thanks for reading!
Monday, February 1, 2010
Adventures in Babysitting
First of all- kudos to those who get the pop culture reference of the title. Great movie, and thankfully I never saw Leaving Las Vegas so, in my mind, Elizabeth Shue will always be a spunky little teenager in a crazy scarf...
So to elaborate on the title: since I was a freshman at good ol' NW, I have worked at an after-school program in town. I got the job through my cousin and I am grateful for it.. now. It has taken me three-and-a-half years to appreciate it. This may be interpreted the wrong way, but I am forever indebted to this place, for it was here that I decided that I didn't want to- nay could never, ever- become a teacher. Again, it sounds mean, but I am glad I discovered that kids weren't my true calling and I am glad I discovered it early.
Working with kids can be very frustrating but it is never dull. One of the biggest lessons I have learned from working there is not to sweat the small stuff, and be able to laugh at yourself. This is what I consider to be one of my greatest qualities: I have the ability to not take myself, and life, too seriously. And I owe it to the kids there.
Kids don't have that filter that we do- they will point out your biggest flaws without blinking. I came to work one time after a truly terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I mean, this one was a doozy. Lacking in the sleep department, I opted to wear my glasses instead of fighting with my contacts. I was told multiple times that day, in various forms, that I looked grotesque and then as I was leaving someone sealed the deal by letting me know that my glasses made it worse. But you have trouble getting angry with them because they really don't know any better.
There are also many social norms on that crazy television that don't always mimic reality. This causes problems. For instance, on television all "grown-ups" have a significant other. Miss Jackie does not. Incessant questioning about why Miss Jackie can't seen to snag herself a guy loses it's charm very quickly. I even had one little girl tell me that she would pay her brother to date me. They sure know how to kick you when you're down, even if it isn't on purpose. I have a feeling she would get along swimmingly with my mom.
You also learn a huge lesson in the wardrobe department. I have a penchant for v-neck shirts and these really don't work when one is working with children. I also learned not to wear anything that has writing on it in... that area. Kids' eyes are attracted to things like that and man, do they stare! To tell one of them that it's not polite to stare at Miss Jackie's chest means explaining why it's not polite, and that goes way beyond my job description.
I have many more stories from my adventures in babysitting and I plan on sharing more, so stay tuned and thanks for reading.
So to elaborate on the title: since I was a freshman at good ol' NW, I have worked at an after-school program in town. I got the job through my cousin and I am grateful for it.. now. It has taken me three-and-a-half years to appreciate it. This may be interpreted the wrong way, but I am forever indebted to this place, for it was here that I decided that I didn't want to- nay could never, ever- become a teacher. Again, it sounds mean, but I am glad I discovered that kids weren't my true calling and I am glad I discovered it early.
Working with kids can be very frustrating but it is never dull. One of the biggest lessons I have learned from working there is not to sweat the small stuff, and be able to laugh at yourself. This is what I consider to be one of my greatest qualities: I have the ability to not take myself, and life, too seriously. And I owe it to the kids there.
Kids don't have that filter that we do- they will point out your biggest flaws without blinking. I came to work one time after a truly terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I mean, this one was a doozy. Lacking in the sleep department, I opted to wear my glasses instead of fighting with my contacts. I was told multiple times that day, in various forms, that I looked grotesque and then as I was leaving someone sealed the deal by letting me know that my glasses made it worse. But you have trouble getting angry with them because they really don't know any better.
There are also many social norms on that crazy television that don't always mimic reality. This causes problems. For instance, on television all "grown-ups" have a significant other. Miss Jackie does not. Incessant questioning about why Miss Jackie can't seen to snag herself a guy loses it's charm very quickly. I even had one little girl tell me that she would pay her brother to date me. They sure know how to kick you when you're down, even if it isn't on purpose. I have a feeling she would get along swimmingly with my mom.
You also learn a huge lesson in the wardrobe department. I have a penchant for v-neck shirts and these really don't work when one is working with children. I also learned not to wear anything that has writing on it in... that area. Kids' eyes are attracted to things like that and man, do they stare! To tell one of them that it's not polite to stare at Miss Jackie's chest means explaining why it's not polite, and that goes way beyond my job description.
I have many more stories from my adventures in babysitting and I plan on sharing more, so stay tuned and thanks for reading.
Monday, January 25, 2010
more adventures with mom
So, in light of the last post (and because nothing that noteworthy happened to me this week) I have decided to continue chronicling my adventures with mom. This one is from a few years ago on a family vacation, but it is still really funny.
My mother loves museums. This is one of her more irritating hobbies because no one in my family is all that fond of museums. This isn't to say that I don't appreciate them now. But, between the ages of 7-16 I didn't really see the point. And seriously, have you ever tried to drag a little kid or preteen to a museum? Yikes. So, for as long as I can remember, we gave my mother the benefit of the doubt and let her pick where we went on vacation every other year. This ensured at least one fun vacation for the Walter family biannually.
1997 Disney world
1998Chicago
1999 Destin
2001 South Dakota (seriously, worst vacation ever)
Anyway, for the past eight years or so, we all decided that Florida was the only place to go. Everyone loves the beach and we always come away with a lot of great memories. Plus, there's "Vacation Dad." He's my dad's alter-ego and he is the coolest guy ever. So, in order to be fair, we struck a compromise with mom. We would spend one day visiting the Naval Aviation museum in Pensacola. It's the only museum within a 50-mile radius, but it was only an hour away so it seemed like a good deal. And it wasn't bad- the first time. However, the third time or so we visited, I was not a happy camper. Upon entering the building (which hadn't changed since the first time) I knew that it was going to be a long day. And the precarious nature of my bad moods meant that I could pounce at any second. A repeat of South Dakota '01 was fast approaching, and this was not good news. But leave it up to my mom to, once again, sacrifice herself for the good of the group...
Now, as a frequent mueseum-er, she can often get her museums confused. She can't remember where she saw what ancient artifact, or what year, but she can remember exactly what it said on the description in front of the display. So, she talked the whole drive up about something she thought she read, about a new exhibit in the museum. I tuned her out, but if I had actually been listening I could have saved her a lot of embarrassment. Whoops. So we get to the entrance and I was tired of hearing her incessant and excited musings about the new exhibit. She was going to look for it herself but wanting to expedite things and get back to the beach, I snapped at her to go to the front desk and ask the museum guards. They would definitely know. Little did I know what she was going to ask them...
I waited patiently at the entrance and after a few minutes, and many confused museum guards, she turned around and slinked back to the group. When she finally got back, her face was turning a shade of bright pink, and before I could ask her what happened, we hear laughter getting louder by the second. It was coming from the front desk. Now, just to paint a picture, this is either a very low-paying, or completely voluntary position. So everyone behind that desk was pushing 80, maybe even 85. No doubt. And they were all roaring. I mean, doubled over with laughter. I even remember seeing one of them on the phone; it was too funny not to tell his friends. Well, remember how I said that she often got her museums mixed up? She read in the paper about a new submarine exhibit; it would have subs from World War Two, and tons of cool facts about them. So, when she asked the main guard, he did a double-take.
"I'm sorry ma'am. What are you looking for?" he asked her, assuming he heard her wrong.
She then proceeded to explain it to him, going over every detail of the article she had read and adding wild hand gestures to emphasize her point. Needless to say, they were unable to conceal their laughter. He finally calmed down enough to politely explain to this poor, blond tourist that she was currently standing in the front lobby of the Naval Aviation Museum, the Aviation standing for airplanes. He made sure to speak slowly,and use grand hand gestures as this didn't seem to be a bright lady. She quickly realized her colossal mistake, mumbled a weak "thank you" and slipped away. I don't think they stopped laughing the whole time; I even heard a chuckle or two on our way out.
Moral of the story: Always, always, always think before you speak. Also, don't underestimate old people. They are sharper (and meaner) than you think. :)
My mother loves museums. This is one of her more irritating hobbies because no one in my family is all that fond of museums. This isn't to say that I don't appreciate them now. But, between the ages of 7-16 I didn't really see the point. And seriously, have you ever tried to drag a little kid or preteen to a museum? Yikes. So, for as long as I can remember, we gave my mother the benefit of the doubt and let her pick where we went on vacation every other year. This ensured at least one fun vacation for the Walter family biannually.
1997 Disney world
1998Chicago
1999 Destin
2001 South Dakota (seriously, worst vacation ever)
Anyway, for the past eight years or so, we all decided that Florida was the only place to go. Everyone loves the beach and we always come away with a lot of great memories. Plus, there's "Vacation Dad." He's my dad's alter-ego and he is the coolest guy ever. So, in order to be fair, we struck a compromise with mom. We would spend one day visiting the Naval Aviation museum in Pensacola. It's the only museum within a 50-mile radius, but it was only an hour away so it seemed like a good deal. And it wasn't bad- the first time. However, the third time or so we visited, I was not a happy camper. Upon entering the building (which hadn't changed since the first time) I knew that it was going to be a long day. And the precarious nature of my bad moods meant that I could pounce at any second. A repeat of South Dakota '01 was fast approaching, and this was not good news. But leave it up to my mom to, once again, sacrifice herself for the good of the group...
Now, as a frequent mueseum-er, she can often get her museums confused. She can't remember where she saw what ancient artifact, or what year, but she can remember exactly what it said on the description in front of the display. So, she talked the whole drive up about something she thought she read, about a new exhibit in the museum. I tuned her out, but if I had actually been listening I could have saved her a lot of embarrassment. Whoops. So we get to the entrance and I was tired of hearing her incessant and excited musings about the new exhibit. She was going to look for it herself but wanting to expedite things and get back to the beach, I snapped at her to go to the front desk and ask the museum guards. They would definitely know. Little did I know what she was going to ask them...
I waited patiently at the entrance and after a few minutes, and many confused museum guards, she turned around and slinked back to the group. When she finally got back, her face was turning a shade of bright pink, and before I could ask her what happened, we hear laughter getting louder by the second. It was coming from the front desk. Now, just to paint a picture, this is either a very low-paying, or completely voluntary position. So everyone behind that desk was pushing 80, maybe even 85. No doubt. And they were all roaring. I mean, doubled over with laughter. I even remember seeing one of them on the phone; it was too funny not to tell his friends. Well, remember how I said that she often got her museums mixed up? She read in the paper about a new submarine exhibit; it would have subs from World War Two, and tons of cool facts about them. So, when she asked the main guard, he did a double-take.
"I'm sorry ma'am. What are you looking for?" he asked her, assuming he heard her wrong.
She then proceeded to explain it to him, going over every detail of the article she had read and adding wild hand gestures to emphasize her point. Needless to say, they were unable to conceal their laughter. He finally calmed down enough to politely explain to this poor, blond tourist that she was currently standing in the front lobby of the Naval Aviation Museum, the Aviation standing for airplanes. He made sure to speak slowly,and use grand hand gestures as this didn't seem to be a bright lady. She quickly realized her colossal mistake, mumbled a weak "thank you" and slipped away. I don't think they stopped laughing the whole time; I even heard a chuckle or two on our way out.
Moral of the story: Always, always, always think before you speak. Also, don't underestimate old people. They are sharper (and meaner) than you think. :)
Monday, January 18, 2010
Adventures with mom
So for my first post, I had originally planned on detailing the effects of being snowed in for days with your family. However, after yet another bizarre/hilarious shopping trip with my mother, I decided that would be better to write about. To give her a proper introduction, I would need much more room and a more extensive vocabulary (not to mention some sort of psychologist). So I will try to be brief, but this is a woman unlike any other. Eccentric to say the least, she has the wonderful trait of sacrificing herself in order to make me laugh.
She once again proved this to me Saturday.
We started out the day with what appeared to be one of the most routine shopping trips; Wal-Mart, then Hy-Vee and JC Penney's. Snooze. Well, our first stop at Penney's was... entertaining. After about an hour of following her around the store holding all her clothes, I was ready to leave. I finally coaxed her into the check-out line and, of course, the employee at the register takes her time ringing everything up and bagging it. She finishes and tells my mom the total. My mother digs around in her wallet for her JC Penney card, taking so long that I honestly believe my head will explode. I have to keep reminding myself that I don't get to see her that often and to keep my cool.
I close my eyes and when I open them, the receipt is printing! I can see the light at the end of the tunnel! I grab the bag and start to make my way towards the door when the saleslady asks my mother, "Have you heard about our online survey?" My mother, oblivious to my ever-growing irritation looks her dead in the eye and says, "No, I haven't." Oh. My. God. The sales lady's face lights up as she starts to explain the wonders of the survey and the 15 percent discount you receive by taking it. At the end of the spiel, my mother, with complete sincerity, looks up and exclaims, "Wow!"
Needless to say, this was too much for me to pass up. I mean, this was the sort of excitement that people reserve for weddings and birthdays. The way she said it, you would have thought the lady had told my mother that she won the lottery. So in my agitation and, frankly, out of habit, I pounced. I don't even attempt to hold back the laughter. "Wow!" I say over and over on our way out of the store. She smiles, used to me making fun of her and realizing that she might have exaggerated a little with her response. When we get to the doors, I turn around to look at the employees standing at the register. They are all laughing hysterically.
Now, as I write this, I realize it sounds mean. I didn't mean for the store to hear me. At the same time, we were two out of probably seven people in the entire store on a very slow Saturday and I am glad we gave them a little entertainment. Also- that is the beauty of my mother. She can recognize these moments in life when you do something stupid and you just have to laugh. I hope I inherited this trait.
She once again proved this to me Saturday.
We started out the day with what appeared to be one of the most routine shopping trips; Wal-Mart, then Hy-Vee and JC Penney's. Snooze. Well, our first stop at Penney's was... entertaining. After about an hour of following her around the store holding all her clothes, I was ready to leave. I finally coaxed her into the check-out line and, of course, the employee at the register takes her time ringing everything up and bagging it. She finishes and tells my mom the total. My mother digs around in her wallet for her JC Penney card, taking so long that I honestly believe my head will explode. I have to keep reminding myself that I don't get to see her that often and to keep my cool.
I close my eyes and when I open them, the receipt is printing! I can see the light at the end of the tunnel! I grab the bag and start to make my way towards the door when the saleslady asks my mother, "Have you heard about our online survey?" My mother, oblivious to my ever-growing irritation looks her dead in the eye and says, "No, I haven't." Oh. My. God. The sales lady's face lights up as she starts to explain the wonders of the survey and the 15 percent discount you receive by taking it. At the end of the spiel, my mother, with complete sincerity, looks up and exclaims, "Wow!"
Needless to say, this was too much for me to pass up. I mean, this was the sort of excitement that people reserve for weddings and birthdays. The way she said it, you would have thought the lady had told my mother that she won the lottery. So in my agitation and, frankly, out of habit, I pounced. I don't even attempt to hold back the laughter. "Wow!" I say over and over on our way out of the store. She smiles, used to me making fun of her and realizing that she might have exaggerated a little with her response. When we get to the doors, I turn around to look at the employees standing at the register. They are all laughing hysterically.
Now, as I write this, I realize it sounds mean. I didn't mean for the store to hear me. At the same time, we were two out of probably seven people in the entire store on a very slow Saturday and I am glad we gave them a little entertainment. Also- that is the beauty of my mother. She can recognize these moments in life when you do something stupid and you just have to laugh. I hope I inherited this trait.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Welcome
Living in Maryville, I have often been under the impression that nothing ever happens here. I have lived here for four years and with each passing day, I become more convinced that there is just not a whole lot going on in this town. I'm not exactly sure when this happened, but one day I discovered I was horribly wrong. It may not be obvious, but interesting thing happen every day- even here.
So, welcome all to my account of random bits of life. This blog will mostly consist of crap that happens to me, at work, on campus, with my family, or with the two little boys I baby-sit each week. It will be infused with "stuff my mom says," pop culture references and, of course, my somewhat skewed view of the world.
Enjoy.
So, welcome all to my account of random bits of life. This blog will mostly consist of crap that happens to me, at work, on campus, with my family, or with the two little boys I baby-sit each week. It will be infused with "stuff my mom says," pop culture references and, of course, my somewhat skewed view of the world.
Enjoy.
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