To the manufacturers of smoke detectors:

First of all, let me say, I very much appreciate your efforts to create a product to protect my home and family in the event of a fire. I really do. It helps me rest a little easier at night. Most nights. But, I am seriously wondering who treated you badly as a child to make you grow up and configure these handy little devices to only malfunction in the middle of the night? There has never been a time in my memory when a battery went dead, with its accompanying repetitive warning signal, during daylight hours. Or, when the interconnected wonders began their blaring, for no apparent reason, in the middle of the afternoon. I used to think it was just a coincidence, but now I'm convinced it's an act of malevolence on your part. The odds are just against it being random.

And, is it really necessary for smoke detectors to be installed on ceilings, so that we are incapable of restoring peace to our sleepy households without having to drag the ladder in from the garage? It just seems like you've added insult to injury there. Having sleep deprived people several feet up in the air doesn't lend much credibility to your supposed purpose of creating these devices for safety's sake. I'm just saying.

I am very tired now, since I was up half the night enduring your vengeance, so I will close this letter. I implore you to find it in your hearts to rethink the middle-of-the-night workings of these otherwise useful contraptions.

Baseball Mom (and her soapbox rant)

I did not choose to become a "baseball mom." To tell you the truth, I don't even like baseball. (Apologies to all the family members and Americans I just offended!) What I do like are two boys named Max and Weston, and what they like (right now) is baseball. So, I took on the role of "baseball mom" willingly, if not whole-heartedly--I admit, I did not order t-shirts from the MLB teams, which my boys' teams are named after, to wear to all the games, and I have not had any desire to create a cute accessory out of an actual baseball. But, I have been to every game (save one, when I had to work, and one, when they were playing at the exact same time, and Dad and I had to divide and conquer), including FOUR games just today. And, I am washing uniforms at this very (late) moment, so we can do it all again tomorrow. And, I do get my voice a little out of whack yelling for my boys. For my boys. Not at them. Not at the umpire. Not at the other team. Not even at the guy in the parking lot who accidentally left his lights on, shining in the face of the batter. I will be the first to admit that I have my flaws, but I do constantly try to check what is coming out of my mouth at games (especially given my own competitive nature), and I would like to encourage all the other Little League parents out there to attempt to do the same (regardless of the sport). This game, this tournament, this season isn't going to make or break your child's future, in the rare event that he (or she) even has a future in this sport. And, it isn't going to redeem your past, as much as you might like it to. They are just little boys (and girls). Let them play and have fun. Let them learn a little about the game and about teamwork. These are valuable lessons. But, don't be overly critical. Or obnoxious. Or competitive. Or act like something really important is on the line. It isn't. To be fair, most of the parents are very supportive and encouraging, which I certainly appreciate. But, there are a few who could use a slight adjustment in their minds (and mouths) about how important this is in the grand scheme of things. [End of rant.]

Sent outside to play

Y'all. This day. It just almost did me in. To be fair, I think it was just because I was physically and mentally exhausted from spending three FULL days at the Marble Falls CC parent practicum, wearing a variety of hats, including teaching a training course, and having a stack of work to get through today (and hoping to do that with the fewest possible interruptions).

But, riddle me this: If we need to leave the house early to be somewhere, why do I have to push, poke, and prod the kids to wake up, have breakfast and put two shoes on their feet, regardless of whether they match or not, but if we have an opportunity to sleep in, everyone wakes early (on their own), banging dishes, yelling "MOMMA" at top volume over and over and over, and are completely dressed, including matching football cleats, by the time I exit the bedroom?

Multiple times, I demanded that the boys go outside and play, partly just to protect them from me. And, I would really love it if one of you could enlighten me as to how it is punishment to go outside and play if you are a boy who lives on a 10-acre property, with a multitude of toys and sporting equipment, on a gorgeous Texas day in July, where the high temperature is only 88 degrees. I just don't get it. Why all the crying and whining and coming back in so often?

In fact, I was so perplexed by this, that, at one point, I decided to send myself out to play, instead of sending the boys out, just to see if I would start crying upon crossing the threshold. To my surprise, I did not start crying or whining. In fact, it was absolutely lovely. Right up until ten minutes later, when the door swung open, and the boys bounded out, a ball of noise and energy, eager to play right there on the porch where I was sitting in peace.

Customer Non-Service

Jeff and I have long been frustrated with our bank. But, the thought of moving the six accounts we hold there just seems too daunting a task, and it never seems to make it even to the top ten on the priority list.  But, if they keep up their amazing customer non-service, we just might have to get serious about making a change.

For the last couple of weeks, we have not been able to log on to online banking from our laptops. That is inconvenient, but we have just been logging on on our phones instead. But, today, I received a message when I tried to log in on my phone that my account had been locked. Which meant I had no choice but to call the ridiculously unhelpful customer service department. Someone answered, required me to answer a million questions to verify my identity, listened to my problem, put me on hold and then, without further explanation, told me she would have to pass me along to someone else. Fine. Next person answers, asks me the same million questions and then asks me what the problem is. I explain that I cannot log on to my online account, and she tells me I need to use a different browser. Well, I don't have another browser on my laptop, but I tell her I can try on a another machine. No luck with that either. So, she then proceeds to scoff at the fact that I don't have any other computers or browsers to try and tells me that, in that case, there is nothing she can do. She simply cannot help me and apparently can't point me to anyone who can. Then the following conversation took place:

"So, I can't use online banking at all?" I ask.

"Well, can't you just log on from your phone?" she replies.

"I don't know. I wasn't able to log on from my phone earlier, which is why I called you."

"You mean you haven't tried to log on from your phone since you talked to the other rep, because I see here that that person unlocked your account?"

"Um, no. I have been on the phone the entire time, waiting to talk to someone who can help me."

"Oh. You mean, you are using that same phone?!"

"Well, yes. It's the only phone I have. But I can try it when we hang up, and call you back if it doesn't work."

"Ok. That sounds good. Is there anything else I can assist you with today?"

[Words screamed spoken only in my head while banging it against a wall] "Are you kidding me?! You haven't assisted me with anything yet!!!"

Ugh! Anybody out there have a bank they love, with excellent (or at least not lousy) customer service?

The true nature of people: stupid, impatient and completely uncaring

This is a rant post. Can you tell?!

I had plans to attend a writing seminar in Austin this evening, and since Jeff is out of town, his parents volunteered to keep the kids for me. I dropped the kiddos off at their house, visited for a little while, and then started making my way toward Austin. I only made it about 20 miles before I came upon an infinitely long line of traffic at a dead stop, and there I stayed for more than an hour. There was a train on the track parallel to the highway that would go forward and then back, over and over again, obviously trying to redirect its path. I saw a fleet of emergency vehicles, what looked like a couple of hearses, and the AirEvac helicopter come in for a landing. Obviously, there was a major problem. Thus, the stopped traffic. And, the emergency vehicles. But many of the other drivers seemed to to be completely oblivious to the trauma happening just a half a mile in front of us. They began making unsafe u-turns into the oncoming traffic lanes, off-roading through the bar ditch, climbing out of their vehicles, beating on the sides of their cars and yelling rude and even obscene things into the air. People were literally dying right in front of them, and they acted as if this had all just been an elaborate scheme with the sole objective of delaying and irritating them, or maybe even, for the ultra-curious ones, of entertaining them. And, most of them seemed not even to give a thought to the fact that it could have been them in that car accident or to acknowledge that none of us are guaranteed tomorrow. It made me so angry, and so sad. Is this really how people are deep down inside? And not even so deep down? Are they really more concerned with getting home to watch some stupid reality t.v show than they are about human life? Obviously, accidents like this happen every day. But, this is the first incidence like this I have been thrown into in quite some time, and I'll tell you, it didn't do much for my thoughts toward humanity, in general. What a sad, sad lot.

Here's the news story about the accident, if you want more information. 

Some questions about the library

• Why is the library's website set up to be more secure than my bank's?
• Why does the librarian hoover over me asking if she can help, and then when I actually need some help, she sends me to the front desk to get my question answered?
• Why is there a limit on how many books I can check out at one time--especially since I have to pay a fee if they are late or lost?
• Why will they not allow my husband to check out books using my card? Even if he offers to call me so they can verify that I gave him permission?
• Why all the hubbub to get a video out from under lock and key, if it is damaged in critical plot areas that force me to have to skip ahead or turn it off completely?
• Why have they stopped being open on Saturdays, when people have more time to actually go there?

Don't get me wrong, I love the library, and will most definitely continue to be a regular there. But I just don't understand why it has to be so hard to use in some ways. 

To the contractors in the home building business:

I wish I could start this letter off by telling you what a pleasure it has been to work with you, but, with the exception of a small handful of you, that would certainly not be the case. I am really not sure how you all have managed to stay in business, with all your not showing up and not doing what you say you're going to do, when you say you're going to do it. Or, at least calling to offer some explanation. I realize that it makes no difference to you whatsoever when my house is finished or when I get to move into it, and that's fine. But at least try to take some pride in your own work and in your own reputation. And, take some time to thank your lucky stars that you are all dealing with my infinitely patient and wonderfully rational husband. I would doubtlessly be much less kind. By all means, enjoy your weekend, but please SHOW UP TO WORK ON MONDAY AND DON'T LEAVE UNTIL YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO SHOW FOR YOURSELVES.

With much frustration,

Mandi Watts

Please DON'T Be Mine!

Well, this post isn't likely to make me very popular, but I'm not that popular anyway, so I'm going to go ahead with it.

I admit it: I am definitely a Valentine curmudgeon. I just can't get behind a Hallmark holiday whose focus is to show a little love to those we love. I mean, shouldn't we be doing that everyday?! Do we need an occasion for that?! And is it really a true expression of love if we're doing it from some national social obligation?! I just don't get it. And I especially don't get it in the context of public school. You go to the store and buy these pre-made cards with some character or other expressing general cheesy fondness for the reader. You stick a sucker (or some other sugar-laden treat) on it. And then you pop one in every single (this is a rule) homemade bag without even bothering to put a name on them (also a rule), because that makes the process too inefficient. What's not to love? When I read the rules, I was tempted to take Ruth out of school today, but then I realized that she genuinely does love all her classmates and teachers and wants to give them things anyway. She does this all the time, without needing a special day for it. So, I did not attempt to transfer my feelings for this holiday to her in any way. And at least she, of her own initiative, made cards for all her classmates herself-- although she was quite put out when I told her she couldn't put individual names on them. And, she wanted to know why she had to give one to every kid. I told her honestly that I didn't know.

If there is one positive thing about this forced holiday, it's that GAC is devoting an hour to love song music videos, which are always fun to watch, even when everything isn't bathed in pink and red.

Are You Free Between 8:00 and October?

As you all know, my dishwasher decided to die on me just after Thanksgiving. And so, since then I have been waiting somewhat patiently to have it replaced. My waiting included these steps:

• Call Home Warranty Company (HWC).
• Be transferred to Service Company (SC).
• Set up appointment with SC. ("We can come out on Monday...between 10:00 and 3:00. Do you need us to call you before we show up")?
• Bad report for dishwasher from SC.
• Wait for HWC to call with my options.
• HWC calls, but hasn't really read the diagnostic report. ("I guess we haven't done the proper research. We'll have to call you back").
• Wait for HWC to call back.
• They never do.
• Call HWC to find out what the heck is going on.
• ("Oh yes, it looks like you are eligible for a new dishwasher. Here is a model number of what we are willing to put in. You need to go to a store or look online to see that this one will fit in your allotted space and that all the hook-ups are the same").
• I look it up online, all the while pondering how on earth I'm going to know if all the "hook-ups are the same," then say the heck with it and order up.
• I call HWC to inform them of my decision.
• HWC goes through a very long disclaimer about what isn't covered, making me think they are definitely hustling me and that no matter what I order, there will most definitely be a problem.
• HWC agrees to ship the new dishwasher to my house--in 5-7 business days. ("We can call you back tomorrow to give you a more narrow time frame.)"
• HWC actually calls back, informing me when the dishwasher will arrive and that I need to call the SC when it does to set up the installation. ("Looks like we can deliver your dishwasher on Friday--between 10:00 and 2:00").
• Delivery Company (DC) calls at 6:45 Friday morning to say that they are on their way and should be to my house in 20 minutes.
• DC leaves dishwasher in garage.
• I call SC when they finally open for business around 9:00. ("I think we can get to that on Monday--between 10:00 and 2:00").
• New dishwasher is finally installed and old dishwasher sits in garage waiting to be hauled off to the dump--because that is one of the things that neither the HWC or SC is responsible for.

I'm thankful to finally have a working dishwasher, I just wish I could have had it a little sooner. And, really, what is it with service companies and their all-day time-frames for getting things done?! I can understand a small window of time, but all day is ridiculous! And then to have the audacity to ask if they should call first! As if we're all just sitting around with absolutely nothing to do but wait for them to show up! It's ludicrous! But, I digress. The point is, I have a new, working dishwasher and no more puddle in the floor...And I only had to wait two weeks for it!

Volunteering

On Thursday afternoons, I leave Weston with some friends for a few hours, and then I spend some time up at Ruth's school. I am the "folder stuffer" for Ruth's class. And when I finish with that task, I go down and vounteer in the library until the end of the school day. My job consists of reshelving books, checking books in, checking books out and answering questions for the kids. It's so fun to interact with the kids and get to know more of the people up at the school. One thing that does disturb me, though, is how very many scary books there are, and how those are the most sought-after books--and I'm only there when the 2nd and 3rd graders are there. First of all, I just don't think those books have much educational value. And further, I just don't think kids that young (or really any age) need their heads filled with such scary thoughts. What is the benefit of that? If you're just looking for entertainment, surely there are better choices. So, now you all know where I stand on scary books. I didn't really mean to turn this post into a rant, but it's just so disturbing to me and I couldn't help myself. I do relish my time up at the school, though, and I'm so thankful that I have that opportunity.

Who Let The Dogs Out?!

The other day I was mowing the grass, and I came across a cute little frog. I caught it in a cup and brought it up to the deck so the kids could see it hop around. They were enjoying the little critter immensely, when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, these two huge bulldog-looking dogs appeared in our yard. I told the dogs to "get," and instead of politely leaving my yard, they began to growl and bark. I quickly moved the kids inside, and I think Weston was just a bit traumatized. He began telling Jeff about the dogs quite animatedly, and the next day he didn't want to go outside, which is highly unusual for him. Then, when we saw Jeff's aunt and uncle and their two little dogs over the weekend, Weston didn't really want to have much to do with the dogs, which he normally loves. It absolutely infuriates me when pet owners let their animals run wild--especially dogs. We don't have pets, and there are many good reasons for that. I don't like to feel "threatened" when I'm in my own yard, minding my own business. I think if you are the pet owner it is your responsibility to have a fence or a leash and keep your animals under control. If you can't do that, then you shouldn't have the animals to begin with. I'm sure the owners of these dogs would probably say, "But they are quite harmless. They just wanted to play." That's all well and good, but we had no way of knowing that, and they certainly didn't seem friendly. If they want to play, they should be playing in their own yard with people who actually want them around. If you own a dog, I think you should go to the park with it and play frisbee. I think you should watch it chase squirrels. I think you should let it lick you all over the face, if you enjoy that sort of thing. But don't impose your lovable (in your eyes) little pooch on me and my family.

Lost In Translation

We watched "Lost In Translation" tonight, and I have to say it was definitely lost on me. I think it was one of the most boring, most pointless movies I've ever seen. I just didn't get it. We had both heard it was good, but we both give it a big thumbs down! So, my recommendation is don't see it if you haven't, and erase it from your memory if you have.

Local News Blues

When the heck are the local news stations going to realize their uselessness and go away and leave us alone? I absolutely cannot stand the local news. I hate the way the anchor people carry on pointless banter, and the way they insist on reporting on things that don't even remotely resemble what I would call news. And don't get me started on the over-dramatic weathermen and women, and their super-duper doplers! And this may sound radical, but do we really need 5:00 AND 6:00 news and 9:00 AND 10:00 news?! And would it kill a field reporter to put someone on the air who can actually form a complete sentence?! I just think the local news is the biggest waste of airtime there ever was--and that's saying something considering what's on TV these days. Forgive the rant, but I just can't take it anymore. I can't wait until the local news goes the way of the dinosaur.

Life's Greatest Annoyance

I absolutely cannot stand service industries where they tell you they will show up at your house on Monday--sometime between 8am and 5pm. And they, of course, expect that you have absolutely nothing else to do but wait for them to show up. And, they have all these strict rules about if you have to cancel, it musts be before 24 hours in advance or you still owe them the service fee. So, I see no reason whatsoever that the reverse shouldn't apply. I waited for someone to show up at my house to fix my garbage disposal today. At 4:30 they called me to let me know they were way behind and they would have to reschedule. Are you kidding me?! So, the way I see it, ARS owes me $55. I'll be expecting a check tomorrow when you finally show up to fix my disposal, thank you very much!

What's Up, Doc?

Anyone out there ever been to the doctor and felt as if the doctor (or in this case the PA) already knew exactly what they were going to say to you before they ever even walked in the door and heard your description of the symptoms? It happened to me today, and it really burned me up. I did not feel like this woman really listened to me at all, nor did she seem too concerned with asking me questions that might be helpful in making a diagnosis. Consequently I didn't feel like she gave me very good advice. Then, I felt like she ordered some tests just to make me feel like she was doing something and just so she could get me out of her hair. I am now in the market for a new primary care physician. I am never sick and I am not a hypochondriac, so when I go to the doctor I expect to have someone really listen to me, and after carefully assessing the situation, to tell me the best way to proceed. And here's a big newflash: I am not an idiot. I know that arthitis affects the joints, and I even know where the joints in my hand are. But I also know that "tendonitis" of my right hand would not be causing me to have pain in my ankles when I wake up in the morning. Thank you very much!

Attack of the Killer Butterflies

Somewhere there is a man (I know it's a man--or at least an aunt who doesn't have any children of her own) who is very proud of himself for inventing a fun activity for children involving clay, teeny-tiny butterfly templates, rhinestones, wire and an oven. He probably has a nice piece of paper detailing the patent on this thing. But I think somewhere in the contengencies it should have said that he would have to be at my house this afternoon to take part in the fun.

So, Ruth got this fun butterfly-making activity for a gift, and she has been begging me for a month to let her open it up. Finally, today, I ran out of excuses and caved. Right away I realized this was no toy for a child. First step: unwrap each piece of clay from hard-to-open celaphane. Ruth was able to open a couple but I had to do the majority. Next step: soften the clay by kneading it in your hand. Unfortunately, the clay was so hard, Ruth couldn't even squeeze it. It was certainly not for a lack of trying, though. Ruth diligently picked up every piece, saying, "I'll do this one," only to pass to me in a few seconds saying, "This one is too hard. Could you do it?" Step three: Roll clay out flat. Ruth diligently rolled the clay but made very little progress, and I ended up rolling out all the clay. Next step: place teeny-tiny butterfly template onto flattened clay and cut out the shape. Ha!! First of all, no cutting utensil was even included in the kit. Secondly, it was almost impossible to cut around these itty-bitty butterflies so that you could actually tell what the shape was. Ruth, undaunted, tried cutting, became frustrated, and passed the clay off for me to cut. This became so tiring that I finally convinced Ruth that we needed to make some cocoons and some caterpillars using lots of clay, and this was an activity she was able to perform on her own. (Finally)! She was also able to make the bodies for the butterflies and glue the rhinstones in place. Finally, I popped all "our" creations in the oven, burning my finger in the process, and 15 minutes later we had solidified the creatures and the fact that "Ruth" will not be doing another of these projects any time soon.