tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42493001813353763572024-02-06T22:09:57.343-06:00My turn to talkRamblings of a freelance writer who clearly has too much time on her handsLesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.comBlogger238125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-63646331119133370342015-12-12T19:52:00.000-06:002015-12-12T19:52:24.187-06:00Christmas contestWe're having an office decorating contest at work! With prizes! So in my usual quirky way, I'm being as competitive as possible.<br />
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Here is my boss's approach - in his words, "Throw money at the problem."<br />
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Yes, he has laser lights, an inflatable Snoopy and even a cozy fireplace scene on his 40 inch monitor. Kind of hard to compete with that, unless you start having fun with Keurig cups. After all, who can resist ...<br />
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Christmas carolers in front of a cozy house,<br />
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Ice skaters out in the cold ... oops, one fell down!<br />
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The Pope getting ready for Christmas mass (sorry, a bit irreverent I know). And of course the decorations would not be complete without ...<br />
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A lovely manger scene.<br />
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Merry Christmas!<br />
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<span class="aZo a5r aZp"></span>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-60912280355339801852012-03-16T19:38:00.000-05:002012-03-16T19:38:00.041-05:00What's up?I know you have all been wondering what the heck I am up to.<br /><br />First I'm a nostalgic blogger telling charming stories about my New England childhood.<br /><br />Then I'm a copywriter blogger giving tips on how to make a comfortable living in your pj's.<br /><br />Then all of a sudden I'm a working woman blogger adjusting to the 9-to-5 routine while dealing with coworkers who I'm sorry I really can't tell you about because they just might stumble upon this blog but trust me I have some totally hilarious stories to tell you at some point. Trust me. You will fall on the floor laughing. I know you will.<br /><br />In the meantime, here is what I have learned lately:<br /><br /> - Karma is alive and well in the workplace. As soon as I pounce upon a mistake made by a sincere and well-meaning coworker, I am bound to make a much worse mistake myself.<br /><br /> - There is no use trying to cover up my large, horrible, unforgivable mistake, even if it is a very small detail in 8-point font in the last disclosure at the bottom of the back page. The client will find it. They always do.<br /><br /> - An abject apology is a good start, but forgiveness is hard to come by. One mistake can wipe out an entire year of competence.<br /><br /> - Not that I've made any mistakes lately.<br /><br /> - But just theoretically, it could happen to anyone.<br /><br /> - Did somebody mention working in their pj's?<br /><br /> - That sounds awfully nice.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~<br /><br /></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-37159554727933212962012-03-13T19:03:00.003-05:002012-03-13T19:33:42.339-05:00There's something wrong with my eyesWhen I was 6, my best friend Lisa Donovan wore glasses. They were completely adorable - little pink cat's-eye glasses that made her look intelligent and girly at the same time. I was totally jealous.<br /><br />Why oh why was I cursed with perfect vision? Lisa's glasses even had a little sparkle to them, which might have distracted from the uncontrollable, unruly mop of hair that was twice the size of my face. They would have transformed me from Little Orphan Annie to Shirley Temple. I was sure of it. I probably would have started tap dancing on the spot.<br /><br />But no. I never needed glasses ... until now.<br /><br />I got my first pair of "real" glasses yesterday, after several years of squinting and holding menus at arm's length and buying three pairs of readers for $12.99 at Costco.<br /><br />My vision is now 20/20. I'm not so sure I like it.<br /><br />Here's why:<br /><br />1. My glasses have "progressive" lenses, which means I can only see clearly if I'm looking straight ahead. I'm constantly tipping my head, like those birds that bob back and forth taking a sip of water. Only without the water.<br /><br />2. If I happen to be looking straight ahead, I see quite clearly. Like this morning, when I put on my glasses and then looked in the mirror. Enough said.<br /><br />3. On the other hand, my new glasses are pretty snazzy.<br /><br />4. They're not sparkly, but they are Michael Kors.<br /><br />5. I can always take them off when I come close to a mirror.<br /><br />6. If I stand far away and squint really hard, I look almost as cute as Lisa Donovan.<br /><br />7. I think I should have gotten the pink ones.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~<br /><br /><br /></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-5038661166912697432012-01-24T19:00:00.001-06:002012-01-24T19:00:00.566-06:00Yoga 102Who needs yoga classes? Why humiliate myself in front of limber 20-year-olds who think it's perfectly normal to bend in half, grab your ankles, bend in half again, stretch one arm towards the ceiling, open your heart to the sky, and rise onto your left hand in the position known as the Bean Sprout Rising In The East?<br /><br />I can do all this at home, with my Yoga 102 Video from Target.<br /><br />My video begins with peaceful flute music and a lovely blonde woman, sitting peacefully on her mat.<br /><br />I can do that.<br /><br />She begins very slowly, apparently recognizing my total lack of coordination. Let's breathe in. And out.<br /><br />I'm doing great. In. Out. My confidence is growing.<br /><br />Lovely Blonde Woman quickens the pace a bit, challenging the fledgling followers who were lured into purchasing her video by the 20% discount on a green flowered yoga mat that smells like a recycled Goodyear tire but is definitely an improvement over the disgusting black mats at the gym that smell like two year old socks that have never been washed.<br /><br />I see you connecting with your inner rhythms, LBW.<br /><br />I admire your ability to contort your body into the ShmarmaBarmaPharmaDownwardDog position.<br /><br />I even enjoy your video, which I am watching from the comfort of my couch with a bowl of popcorn on my lap as I type this blog post.<br /><br />I think I'm getting the hang of this yoga thing. It's a spectator sport, right?<br /><br />Got it. I'm with ya. Breathe in. Breathe out. Downward dog. All is well.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-43820161254268229732012-01-23T19:20:00.002-06:002012-01-23T19:44:53.131-06:00Yoga 101Some things in life are exactly what they seem to be. Take, for instance, a two year old who wants to eat cookies for dinner. She makes it perfectly clear what she wants.<br /><br />"Cookie?"<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">No, we're not having cookies for dinner.</span><br /><br />"Cookie??"<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">No, mac and cheese. You love mac and cheese.</span><br /><br />"COOKIE!! COOKIE COOKIE COOKIE!"<br /><br />As the mac and cheese goes hurtling across the room and splatters all over the wall, the two-year-old continues to communicate quite clearly.<br /><br />"COOKIECOOKIECOOOOOOOOKIEEEEEEEE"<br /><br />At this point, most normal parents scramble to the pantry, throw open a bag of cookies, and dump them all onto the high chair. This is not giving in. This is basic survival.<br /><br />You are probably wondering what this has to do with yoga. Let me explain.<br /><br />Yoga instructors are the cosmic opposite of two-year-olds. I learned this over the weekend, when I came up with the extremely bad idea of trying a basic yoga class at the gym.<br /><br />Here's what yoga instructors say - and what they mean:<br /><br />"welcome. sit quietly on your mat in whatever position is comfortable."<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">This is going to hurt.</span><br /><br />"breathe in and out. cross your legs in a simple, relaxed position. like me. one over the other. you can do it."<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I see you in the back row. You can't even cross your legs. What are you doing in my class?</span><br /><br />"now stretch forward, bringing your legs into the upward downward sideways dog position while rising in slow motion onto one hand and lifting your right arm towards the ceiling."<br /><br style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I've been pretty bored this week. This should be really fun. </span><br /><br />"as you inhale, cross your left arm over your shoulder and grab hold of your right ankle."<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Perfect. I heard something crack.</span><br /><br />"pay no attention to the people around you. enter your own private space. dwell in each breath. in. and out."<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">You still breathing, there in the back row? Here comes the grand finale.</span><br /><br />now pull your ankle in towards the center, exhaling as the gentle motion rolls you over onto your side, in a graceful arc that mirrors the rotation of the earth"<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ha! There she goes. I love my job.</span><br /><br />(You just wait, Yoga Instuctor. I bought a Yoga video at Target yesterday. I'll be ready for you next time.)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~<br /><br /><br /></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-85702610390724240082011-09-23T18:52:00.006-05:002011-09-23T19:47:59.313-05:00Sick day<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc85GVzYQwno_Gh6ETGXM4uww30aLIxIN5I_X7o1ZqfX-i5KjggNjN4YV290nswInW_VbgJVw9hUWGqfnPPQ0rBFqAal_AkxYskDeBSgpt6qft_oplg2WcWdc4BC5H1gYa_jpreV4G7X5S/s1600/IMG_0511.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc85GVzYQwno_Gh6ETGXM4uww30aLIxIN5I_X7o1ZqfX-i5KjggNjN4YV290nswInW_VbgJVw9hUWGqfnPPQ0rBFqAal_AkxYskDeBSgpt6qft_oplg2WcWdc4BC5H1gYa_jpreV4G7X5S/s320/IMG_0511.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655709992021098978" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(keep watch, little puppy. my little puppy is sleeping.)<br /><br /><br /></span></div>Gramma, thanks for coming over.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">You're welcome sweetheart, your mommy had to take Jules to get her immunizations, right?</span><br /><br />Yeah. And I'm sick. I threw up, did you know that? It was disgusting.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Yes, I heard. You look a little tired.</span><br /><br />No. I'm not tired. I'm a puppy.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Oh, ok. What does the puppy want to do?</span><br /><br />She wants to wear a princess dress.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ok.</span><br /><br />And you need to make her a leash. With a collar.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ok.</span><br /><br />And then you be the mean person, and trap her, right here, with this blanket.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ok.</span><br /><br />She's going to take a little nap. I don't like to take naps. But the puppy wants a nap. You be right there. Don't go anywhere.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I promise, puppy ... puppy? You there? Puppy? <span style="font-size:85%;">I love you, little puppy.<span style="font-size:85%;"> Sleep tight.</span></span></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">~~~<br /><br /></span></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-10920728945257221162011-08-17T19:16:00.004-05:002011-08-17T19:31:42.542-05:00Preschool<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQbvT9k-DVLLfqxyOJp8SPvTTPcrx9TeJcy7ZR1sK6RtzBl_IdkA4Y5Vai2dTeZpkr9UdB16SxiK8TbPPo5mfq6v2XY1esgUE1LT7iRmV6thrdRdF9u36RxToUqGSLEsK-Ur1Kiuia46qu/s1600/images.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 183px; height: 275px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQbvT9k-DVLLfqxyOJp8SPvTTPcrx9TeJcy7ZR1sK6RtzBl_IdkA4Y5Vai2dTeZpkr9UdB16SxiK8TbPPo5mfq6v2XY1esgUE1LT7iRmV6thrdRdF9u36RxToUqGSLEsK-Ur1Kiuia46qu/s320/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641986638669087362" border="0" /></a>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(finger painting ... it's about more than fingers)
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<br />My 4-year-old granddaughter started preschool this week. Amazing. Some of my first memories are of preschool.
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<br />I remember a big red "barn" where the outdoor toys were kept. If I hurried outside at recess time, I could get the tricycle before anybody else grabbed it.
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<br />I remember the swings, where I could have happily spent an entire day. My teacher told my mom I was amazingly good at "pumping" for my age. This was my first and last athletic accomplishment.
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<br />I remember finger painting, with the squishy paint covering my hands. It smelled great. The best part of finger painting was, there was no wrong way to do it. You could work really hard to make a painting that looked like something. Or you could just enjoy the smell, the feel, the fun of smearing gooey paint over the slick paper, making rainbows that blended into houses that smeared up against clouds that looked like nothing in the real world but felt like a brave, brand new world you had created all by your little 4-year-old self.
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<br />That's all I remember. But it's enough. It was a good start.
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<br /></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-34479060989944586032011-07-10T18:38:00.003-05:002011-07-10T19:06:27.381-05:00Now you're cooking<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij8vr9ntl60ZgcVJqGY6TvFm1MobZVpNvJN-Xu_AmwzZtSQ7XVuRn0lO_jqZTfd9JuCaHNI4TR4lVCtwaun1QAfa6q8RKfg0nf01rtEQ1Zy_8J2QlLDTXIDliIabB6vImYDKmVjug7rUrs/s1600/microwave.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij8vr9ntl60ZgcVJqGY6TvFm1MobZVpNvJN-Xu_AmwzZtSQ7XVuRn0lO_jqZTfd9JuCaHNI4TR4lVCtwaun1QAfa6q8RKfg0nf01rtEQ1Zy_8J2QlLDTXIDliIabB6vImYDKmVjug7rUrs/s320/microwave.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627878831618422370" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(time for dinner ... or maybe not)</span><br /></div><br />I remember, not that long ago, when dinners were cooked in the oven, not the microwave.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"dinners were cooked? like, people made their own food? how old ARE you, anyway?"</span><br /><br />Never you mind. It was not that long ago, believe it or not. In fact, I was just reminded of the good ol' cooking days because my microwave is on the fritz.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"on the fritz? what the heck does that mean?"</span><br /><br />It means, if I want to reheat the leftovers from last night's home cooked meal, I have to push the START button a bazillion times before anything starts to happen.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"whoa, wait a minute. what are leftovers?"</span><br /><br />Oh my gosh, don't you young people ever eat leftovers?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"ya, if we're dumpster divers. eww."</span><br /><br />What about home cooked meals? Are those a thing of the past?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"why cook at home when you can get an in-and-out burger in 5 minutes?"</span><br /><br />What if you want comfort food, like chicken and dumplings?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"cracker barrel."</span><br /><br />Mom's spaghetti?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"buca di beppo."</span><br /><br />Pot roast?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"what's that?"</span><br /><br />Never mind ... sigh ... I think I'll go push the START button a bazillion times and see what happens. Catch you later.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"don't save any leftovers for us. we're full."</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~<br /></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-62455366700228240442011-07-06T19:52:00.001-05:002011-07-10T18:35:20.545-05:00Help Wanted: Part Four<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbUxarvy6QFmnr2o4tpiQr1d2SNxBW0X0XQjXFUROa9ZxLmFT2bE1m0oFbIgeeCpvhJHWRuyklHjqtKbYrisGbn8WoLUNxKokA93BEgND2pGvgPBAJUlbMfVQLySHfbdvU7UYkI_K1-i_/s1600/help+wanted+3.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbUxarvy6QFmnr2o4tpiQr1d2SNxBW0X0XQjXFUROa9ZxLmFT2bE1m0oFbIgeeCpvhJHWRuyklHjqtKbYrisGbn8WoLUNxKokA93BEgND2pGvgPBAJUlbMfVQLySHfbdvU7UYkI_K1-i_/s320/help+wanted+3.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624180637782010530" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(help help help)</span><br /><br /></div><br />Hilarious Craigslist job listing that I just might apply for if I completely lose my mind # 4:<br /><br /><h1>We are seeking Equine Telemarketers</h1> <h2>Must be a self-starter and you must have Equine knowledge and telemarketing experience. </h2> <h3>Full Time Position - $9.00 Hr. plus Bonuses<br />972-542-8700 ext. 1222 Attn. Amy</h3> <b>To Reply by email: Press reply to reply at the top of this ad.</b> <br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">This ad raises a great many questions.<br /><br />First, why are they yelling at me in big bold letters?<br /><br />Second, what the heck is an equine telemarketer? Is it a horse who makes phone calls to strangers? Or a strange person who makes phone calls to horses? Either way, I'm not sure I qualify.<br /><br />Third, how completely stupid do you have to be, to need directions about pressing "reply" to reply to this ad? Although, of course, if you are a horse this would be an indication of an incredible (for a horse) IQ. So maybe it's not so stupid after all.<br /><br />I wonder what you have to do to earn the bonuses ...<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">~~~<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"></span></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-89237778234696315352011-07-03T07:43:00.000-05:002011-07-03T07:43:00.118-05:00Help Wanted: Part Three<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxixDd2OmvNVQMuDpJG8KzWaJ7ey_FR0XR1LmOQG6f1dDtAKYacNg2YlGdkMnpYRTzE7HvwpwjdOqHrlcY73n_bwmWDof91b8oF41iHzLepl_PMGxrN1Ghgw2Hv7smgS6Y-jn_HlyhKJ8/s1600/help_wanted.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 252px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxixDd2OmvNVQMuDpJG8KzWaJ7ey_FR0XR1LmOQG6f1dDtAKYacNg2YlGdkMnpYRTzE7HvwpwjdOqHrlcY73n_bwmWDof91b8oF41iHzLepl_PMGxrN1Ghgw2Hv7smgS6Y-jn_HlyhKJ8/s320/help_wanted.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624178498223938770" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(unemployed? clearly you are not trying very hard)</span><br /><br /></div><br />Hilarious Craigslist job listing that I swear I did not make up # 3:<br /><br />Wiener Man, Fort Worth's best wiener food truck is now hiring all positions; cashier, grill, expidite and truck leads. Get into this fast-growing industry on the ground floor as we would like to promote from within. We serve amazing wieners and encourage patrons to put them in their mouths frequently. Please reply via this ad with a short description of yourself and/or a resume. See you soon! <br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Dear Wiener Man: I'm sure your wieners are amazing but you will not be seeing me soon.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">~~~<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"></span></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-34613158559909970522011-07-01T07:51:00.002-05:002011-07-01T20:12:59.444-05:00Help Wanted: Part Two<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR-6b5C0RVeUuen74YXhs6I5M6MILNa0sYXr2_h3wpaB5ibrOa15beT48kfV6K-KDx5WJjdHRGH_UR619PSXzpp_cDG884OnvTJj7hMsZJ3CmhPgL2V_4tQ8Zexbcc1lNuoR6iUCIAVLo4/s1600/help_wanted2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 246px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR-6b5C0RVeUuen74YXhs6I5M6MILNa0sYXr2_h3wpaB5ibrOa15beT48kfV6K-KDx5WJjdHRGH_UR619PSXzpp_cDG884OnvTJj7hMsZJ3CmhPgL2V_4tQ8Zexbcc1lNuoR6iUCIAVLo4/s320/help_wanted2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624556317904947090" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(jobs jobs jobs)</span><br /><br /></div><br />Hilarious Craigslist job listing that will help me avoid the need to write original blog posts # 2:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Head Lice Removal Specialist</span><br /><br />Nit Picky is currently hiring head lice specialists as independent contractors in the Dallas, Texas Area. Training is provided, experience with hair is preferred. The position requires the ability to travel to treat families for head lice throughout Dallas County to our customers home. We offer an excellent opportunity to earn a substantial supplemental income that allows you a flexible schedule while working part time.<br /><br />Requirements Include:<br />*Pass A Background Check<br />*Pass A Reference Check<br />*Pass A Drug Screening<br />*Ability to Stand for Long Periods of Time<br />*Good Eye Sight A MUST!<br />*Enjoy Working With Young Children<br />*Comfortable Going Into Families Homes<br />*Positive Attitude<br />*Be able to deal with bugs<br />*Available to immediately respond to text, phone calls, or email.<br />*Have a cell phone and current drivers licsense.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I enjoy working with young children, but I have a feeling that standing for long periods of time picking bugs out of screaming children's hair and passing a drug test are mutually exclusive. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~<br /></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-53587138901986497432011-06-29T19:35:00.004-05:002011-06-29T19:50:55.557-05:00Help Wanted: Part One<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIRf5DQJsMnKaXpr4Ztr9fS_8SEaGtVU4Wnq1Cqi-2i_D4xGwWd1kDCjsVgsatvAlu_AXpmaD6sostASvm7Ip9J4s1fkYoMYrjwJ2UVZAndXKKbO8XxxkNtiMeBpTUf-EWPGm11L7eBoPt/s1600/HELP-WANTED.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIRf5DQJsMnKaXpr4Ztr9fS_8SEaGtVU4Wnq1Cqi-2i_D4xGwWd1kDCjsVgsatvAlu_AXpmaD6sostASvm7Ip9J4s1fkYoMYrjwJ2UVZAndXKKbO8XxxkNtiMeBpTUf-EWPGm11L7eBoPt/s320/HELP-WANTED.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623808303302556946" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(unemployment? what unemployment?)</span><br /><br /></div><br />Who says there's an unemployment problem? Anyone who makes that claim has not been on Craigslist lately. There are plenty of jobs to go around.<br /><br />This is the first of possibly hundreds of posts to come highlighting hilarious job postings on craigslist. Now, if you are a coworker of mine, don't get your hopes up. I am not searching for a job. But someone close to me is - which of course means that I am helpfully writing multiple resume versions (HumorousResume / StraightResume / DesperateResume / CharmingResume) not to mention corresponding cover letters and job search engine queries.<br /><br />Not that I'm controlling or anything.<br /><br />Along the way, I have encountered some actual job listings that I thought you would enjoy. I swear I did not make these up. Here is the first craigslist listing, word for word, with my comments below in red:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Driver, pick up for crematory</span><br /><br />local crematory needs driver/pick up person. must have valid drivers license, ability to do heavy lifting of deceased. training available for crematory operation. must have excellent social skills, attention to detail. $10 per hour salary. part time postion may develop into full time.<br /><br /><ul class="blurbs"><li> Location: lewisville texas </li><li> Compensation: $10 per hour </li></ul><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Ok, so first of all - what exactly would the "training for crematory operation" involve? Don't tell me. I don't really want to know.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Second, I can understand why you'd need the "ability to do heavy lifting" - but are "excellent social skills" really needed? Really?<br /><br />And third, this highly desirable position pays a whopping $10 an hour? Seriously?<br /><br />Sign me up. My TotallyDesperateResume is on the way.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-style: italic;">~~~<br /><br /></span></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"></span></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-81678749220600022632011-06-09T18:11:00.004-05:002011-06-09T18:39:17.469-05:00How I Spent My Summer Vacation - Part One<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDBf-Cf71_asOcCU0OnIXkndgZY143MgaJQpkJk1nn8lxz0YVIaRyQzJrPn7c0Pg98KvMiCwN2s_TA-UExQJIG1MpaWeNMCujK2C3Iv9DW_mdPXQ7cNFnImQdtrMojxrrj_pzKGugbgKCJ/s1600/Sun.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDBf-Cf71_asOcCU0OnIXkndgZY143MgaJQpkJk1nn8lxz0YVIaRyQzJrPn7c0Pg98KvMiCwN2s_TA-UExQJIG1MpaWeNMCujK2C3Iv9DW_mdPXQ7cNFnImQdtrMojxrrj_pzKGugbgKCJ/s320/Sun.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616368399087756370" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(summertime ... and the livin' is easy)<br /></span></div><br /><br />It's almost summer in Texas. I can tell because it's almost 100 degrees, at almost 7:00 at night, and it won't go below 75 degrees for almost 5 more months, at which point I will almost be ready for cooler temperatures.<br /><br />Summer is no big deal to me now. I worked today. I'll work tomorrow. But back in the good old days, when the dinosaurs roamed the earth foraging for children much meatier than I, summer was truly a magical season.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">First, we turned in our books.</span><br />I loved doing this, probably because I was an extremely strange child who would today be labeled Obsessive Compulsive But Possibly Above Average In Verbal Skills Which May Negate The Need For Therapy If She Is Lucky. The teacher instructed us to open to the first page of each textbook, where there was a little chart listing the children who had used that book and the condition in which they left it. I made sure to mark one degree up from the pathetic child before me, even if it meant taping torn pages and erasing stray pencil marks. This, believe it or not, was great fun.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Then, we had our Flag Day ceremony.</span><br />The last day of school was always Flag Day, which involved some kind of ceremony that I honestly do not remember. All I know is, it was the last day of school.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Then, it was VACATION TIME!!!!!<br /></span>Yippee! Three whole months in which I could do nothing at all.<br /><br />Or ...<br /><br />(to be continued)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~<br /><br /></div><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-49073214534286245812011-05-23T07:12:00.001-05:002011-05-23T20:15:03.767-05:005 Reasons why a Free Health Fair is not nearly as festive as it sounds<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzjwEyDYtxQncS6fzX1iAThXtpogrtrPd56ec5vtq3YESosEdGIIL5RGFuWG3E1CMBXzIUhri93qJAJOIJ2araZ-os8QdFgB42AFViJPxroIDpSBUXMhwDsEccsNhn2Vnc4GSRHML8ZfCr/s1600/hotel.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzjwEyDYtxQncS6fzX1iAThXtpogrtrPd56ec5vtq3YESosEdGIIL5RGFuWG3E1CMBXzIUhri93qJAJOIJ2araZ-os8QdFgB42AFViJPxroIDpSBUXMhwDsEccsNhn2Vnc4GSRHML8ZfCr/s320/hotel.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609524713857680578" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(the doctor will be with you in a moment)<br /></span></div><br /><br />We live just around the corner from a beautiful new hospital.<br /><br />If I blind-folded you and led you into the lobby and then, ta-daaaa, ripped off the blind-fold, you would look at the plush carpet and mahogany-paneled walls and crystal chandeliers and immediately ask what time the free breakfast buffet begins, knowing they would serve a lovely assortment of full-size croissants with fresh strawberries and maybe even custom-made omelets with sprigs of parsley artfully arranged on the top.<br /><br />That's how fancy this hotel is. I mean hospital. It's a hospital. I forgot.<br /><br />Anyway, this hospital had a free health fair last weekend. Wasn't that nice of them? They had a huge tent outside, with bounce houses for the kids, free lunch for everybody, free health screenings, and free giveaways.<br /><br />I realize it's rude to complain about free stuff, but here's why it wasn't quite as festive as it sounds:<br /><br />1. They served hot dogs for lunch. Do you know what's in those things?<br /><br />2. Their bone density machine said I am a "negative two" which means my fragile little bones are about to shatter into dust and I really need to see a doctor.<br /><br />3. Their cholesterol test said I am in danger of solidifying at any moment and I really need to see a doctor.<br /><br />4. Their glucose test said I have way too much sugar in my system which is probably attributable to the granola bars they were passing out but nevertheless, I really need to see a doctor.<br /><br />5. Their blood pressure machine said I might as well go lie down and wait for the heart attack to take me. Don't even bother making dinner. It will only go to waste.<br /><br />I must say, the nurse at the "Results" table was very kind. Her smile faded as my results came in and she shook her head slowly as she wrote the extremely high numbers in red ink, circled them, drew exclamation points next to each one, and passed the death sentence across the table to my shaking hands.<br /><br />"You really need to see a doctor," she whispered, apparently afraid that loud noises would cause my clotted arteries to burst on the spot.<br /><br />"Would you like to make an appointment? We have two hundred specialists on staff. Some of them might even be in your insurance network, which means you'll only have to pay for hundreds of dollars of blood work, mysterious office charges, and other miscellaneous bills that will trickle in for several years."<br /><br />I thought for a moment. I remembered the good old days, when I felt healthy and strong, which was approximately one hour ago. I decided to take my chances.<br /><br />Tests, shmests.<br /><br />Let's go have a hot dog.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~<br /><br /></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-6265893702725668512011-05-21T14:06:00.005-05:002011-05-21T14:28:51.488-05:00How to publish an e-book<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfVbfwccG1m_MqAqCaLnHkmebFRP_dp4x2sGT30qJTfbPzZ21hjQhJemajKb2M-W1dLSI0b2DoIfmOBgAM0x0UFPq7oxTPnz_E0VSctJ_LwlO-N7ociemEndyN0FBj8UgljH4bw4lJBN4U/s1600/img-landing-device-fam-168x260.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 168px; height: 260px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfVbfwccG1m_MqAqCaLnHkmebFRP_dp4x2sGT30qJTfbPzZ21hjQhJemajKb2M-W1dLSI0b2DoIfmOBgAM0x0UFPq7oxTPnz_E0VSctJ_LwlO-N7ociemEndyN0FBj8UgljH4bw4lJBN4U/s320/img-landing-device-fam-168x260.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609253299702408434" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPpxwfV3c8vISyTmeqgUzOFtJweGYMYI7RQgzFF0-CUQeMb2TDj9brkQG3OTLRMrI_rTJqmmdeR-PTKTphQi9nNJaAmwcEbB1bObWb2HpUlKi_i_TTTPkqJDgwiOm9tFOCRg-iSrPgP5vA/s1600/Book+cover2.jpg"><br /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(chapter 1: in which our story never gets off the e-ground)</span><br /></div><br /><br />I know, I know, I've been promising y'all a book for some time now. Fortunately, the world of book publishing has become much easier in the last few years! In fact, I should have an e-book on Amazon any day now.<br /><br />Gone are the days of having to find an agent. Today's authors don't even have to send out query letters, anxiously wait by the mailbox, and then burst into tears when rejections flood in with highly insensitive comments like "Not accepting manuscripts at this time" or "Not our genre" or the slightly more encouraging "Everyone has a story to tell. Perhaps you need to figure out what yours is, before you try to tell it."<br /><br />No! Those days are over! Today, you can simply e-publish an e-book for free, and watch the royalty checks pour in!<br /><br />Here's how you do it:<br /><br />1. Write a book. Trust me, this is the easy part.<br /><br />2. Visit the helpful Kindle Publishing Help Page for instructions on how to publish it.<br /><br />3. Follow the easy step by step directions. Easy step one is "Formatting Your Text." I have been stuck on this easy step for three and a half weeks. But as soon as I figure it out, I will be ready for the next easy step! I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!<br /><br />Meanwhile, I am accepting pre-orders for my soon-to-be-best-seller so leave a comment to let me know how many e-copies you would like!<br /><br />Any day now! I promise!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~<br /><br /><br /></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-92087506343101195572011-04-08T18:27:00.001-05:002011-04-08T18:27:00.420-05:00Financial Planning After 50<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTW8P12JT7oZ6vUiRQSX8yqzE_yHvtSktamwL_0ExgbL-eZXYF6QpGnmzI49HzUTZUwzW3YeuK4rz4OQP08OdGKl7tq4mGaMSkb-q4Th6dHaky8YkUc94ftQAD_3QvUeXS6N8Hf9Jp4ACN/s1600/geezer.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTW8P12JT7oZ6vUiRQSX8yqzE_yHvtSktamwL_0ExgbL-eZXYF6QpGnmzI49HzUTZUwzW3YeuK4rz4OQP08OdGKl7tq4mGaMSkb-q4Th6dHaky8YkUc94ftQAD_3QvUeXS6N8Hf9Jp4ACN/s400/geezer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590764653108343826" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(i'm so old, I have equity in my house)</span><br /><br /></div><br />I'm pretty sure I am the oldest employee in my entire company. That doesn't bother me, but it does have some interesting financial implications.<br /><br />1. I decided to max out my 401(k) contribution, as well as my Health Savings Account contribution, not to mention the special catch-up contributions they give me because I am a geezer who, let's face it, will never catch up.<br /><br />2. As a result, my take-home pay is approximately $1.98 each week.<br /><br />3. In fact, our company accountant called me to make sure I was aware that my take-home pay would no longer pay for a take-out pizza.<br /><br />4. Yes, I told her, that's fine, I'm saving for retirement, which just might happen some day.<br /><br />5. Unless the stock market crashes again.<br /><br />6. Which is totally possible, as long as Goldman Sachs controls the world.<br /><br />7. Which means I better keep working.<br /><br />8. So I probably need some new clothes.<br /><br />9. Which will cost a heck of a lot more than $1.98.<br /><br />10. And in conclusion, my husband clearly needs to get a second job. Do you want to tell him, or should I?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">~~~<br /><br /><br /></span></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-61587823916150903512011-04-04T19:01:00.002-05:002011-04-04T19:01:00.919-05:00Technology after 50<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGebWbzg7mVI8hyphenhyphenFW3O85O_Y5KQoD_btlwYxoCJdqOOzQ1yKClOx8y4OwMqYW8Gf02eVQUkpAXoHCGBP_kbkW-k5YWVpe7YehfdbFigAbuhmmsI91EJvLeXmvejzpCn_jwyasT0C_LsBF/s1600/mouse.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGebWbzg7mVI8hyphenhyphenFW3O85O_Y5KQoD_btlwYxoCJdqOOzQ1yKClOx8y4OwMqYW8Gf02eVQUkpAXoHCGBP_kbkW-k5YWVpe7YehfdbFigAbuhmmsI91EJvLeXmvejzpCn_jwyasT0C_LsBF/s400/mouse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590399251359959954" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(of course i know what a mouse is. everybody knows what a mouse is)<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br />I do my best to keep up with technology. But it's moving way faster than me.<br /><br />Here are a few things I just don't understand:<br /><br />1. What the heck is an Android?<br /><br />2. What is a cloud, and how can I send my files there? And why would I want to send them there, if I don't even know where it is? Plus, I don't have any files anyway, so do I still need a cloud? Cuz if I need one, I really want to get one.<br /><br />And 3. What if I'm not as smart as my smart phone? Will it be smart enough for both of us? Like, will it explain itself to me, because I'm pretty sure I will have no idea how to use it, if I ever get one, which I probably won't because let's face it I really don't want a phone that is smarter than me.<br /><br />I miss the good old days, when phones made phone calls and that was it. No email. No pictures. Just hello, let's chat a while.<br /><br />I miss the cars of yesterday, with windows you had to crank down and super cool AM/FM radios and maybe a tape deck if you were really lucky.<br /><br />But I do kinda like my Netflix streaming video, with my queue of old black and white movies starring Bette Davis and Clark Gable. See? I'm hip. In my own little way.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~<br /><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-66753809151668480822011-03-31T18:35:00.005-05:002011-03-31T18:56:03.352-05:00Fitness After 50<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWJAy6ZEMMRyd8SKYCQnXU3qmcQJ3wlk6Fb9K8bcxQJ1i4YWay1B1hQS1P2zLVHtho58UBt0gCg1lNrXhgdvY-15Vek6tfE9cPMgqTJu89D1vzqQvXpW6ChniblFdAq1yLKSwCHwCg0Mc/s1600/workout+1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWJAy6ZEMMRyd8SKYCQnXU3qmcQJ3wlk6Fb9K8bcxQJ1i4YWay1B1hQS1P2zLVHtho58UBt0gCg1lNrXhgdvY-15Vek6tfE9cPMgqTJu89D1vzqQvXpW6ChniblFdAq1yLKSwCHwCg0Mc/s400/workout+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590395551428899298" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(step ladies, step!)</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span>Good morning Gals!! Welcome to our Prime Time Fitness Class!! It's a Prime Time to get fit, because I can tell you are all on the verge of total physical disintegration!! So let's get started!!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">...booming rap music blares from the speakers</span><br /><br />Ok!! Here we go!! Just follow along.<br /><br />Grapevine right clap clap spin around touch your toes grapevine left clap clap.<br /><br />You okay, honey? Somebody help her up. Let's try it again, a little slower.<br /><br />Grape. vine. right. clap. clap. spin. around.<br /><br />Hold on. Right is THIS way. Got it? This. Way. NO. THIS. WAY. RIGHT. EVERYBODY POINT TO THE RIGHT. Ok. There. Let's try again.<br /><br />Grape. vine. right.<br /><br />OKAY. So, grapevine means step, cross, step, cross. Got it?<br /><br />STEP. NO, TO THE RIGHT! JUST STEP!!!! LIKE YOU'RE WALKING!!! OH MY GOD, DON'T YOU MORONS EVER WALK??? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHICH WAY IS RIGHT??? THAT'S IT I QUIT I JUST CAN'T TAKE THIS ANY MORE!!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">...booming rap music continues ... me and my friends grapevine randomly ... half an hour later, it's time for lunch at applebee's.<br /><br />life is good.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">~~~<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-89525950518605292422011-03-28T07:00:00.000-05:002011-03-28T07:00:05.632-05:00Fashion After 50<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNCyyzRQEevRIlFJkYPwFIWncYujixs7hvaZjq9AZTWA4JCd8eIrfdTWqtGC1bRJabl_Fyy5djo3Omsy0oabXUHb2IHJ5yrZvaXcbUDGCT8mKwdWBLw08bGYJWKP03Vy2X_qRF6BiUHrPh/s1600/sweats.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNCyyzRQEevRIlFJkYPwFIWncYujixs7hvaZjq9AZTWA4JCd8eIrfdTWqtGC1bRJabl_Fyy5djo3Omsy0oabXUHb2IHJ5yrZvaXcbUDGCT8mKwdWBLw08bGYJWKP03Vy2X_qRF6BiUHrPh/s400/sweats.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588564884691435058" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(my fashion motto)<br /><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">When I was young, I considered myself a pretty snappy dresser. The salespeople at Lord & Taylor knew me by name. I once got a phone call from our local J.Jill store, letting me know there was a sale coming up. My kids could give directions to any store in the mall by the time they were six.<br /><br />Then I started working at home. Bye-bye snappy, hello sweats.<br /></div></div><br />But now, I'm back in the work force - and over 50. What's a gal to wear? Tell me, J.C.Penney, what kind of clothes would you choose for the "Wear To Work" section of your website?<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt3rFmyxIvHNIlws6GS6-MNHFs9ibjrLcJw-BMwyG7eZRA-_ucEhS0tHeLpXpkkw3ECXRQtfHMTmEHIUi_5t2fPDT5yB2pTyZ6zx3U0FxKkM1TVDULbCp5sbEE_CO6u-WthXbtvVUn7jtA/s1600/fashion+3+wear+to+work.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt3rFmyxIvHNIlws6GS6-MNHFs9ibjrLcJw-BMwyG7eZRA-_ucEhS0tHeLpXpkkw3ECXRQtfHMTmEHIUi_5t2fPDT5yB2pTyZ6zx3U0FxKkM1TVDULbCp5sbEE_CO6u-WthXbtvVUn7jtA/s400/fashion+3+wear+to+work.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588569045156709778" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">"This gorgeous dress has it all and when you put it on, we guarantee you won't be the only one swooning."</span><br /></div><br />I don't think swooning is in my job description. And I don't particularly want any of my coworkers swooning, either. What else have you got?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ5hq5YDnZHHy2OBUGK1EzvavMHZLbVyvqgu4ExnAi9l1f2DXvAo2L-PjUPitn54XkwqtnMkBh-e-m54Ecu2VdaRkTZDJy6A52DLv-xnlyfY5eGsyLEnUmMZwCY3rQmrOqym5DNZo-eahW/s1600/fashion+5.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ5hq5YDnZHHy2OBUGK1EzvavMHZLbVyvqgu4ExnAi9l1f2DXvAo2L-PjUPitn54XkwqtnMkBh-e-m54Ecu2VdaRkTZDJy6A52DLv-xnlyfY5eGsyLEnUmMZwCY3rQmrOqym5DNZo-eahW/s400/fashion+5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588563908668778322" border="0" /></a> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">"Steal the attention in any room when you step in wearing this dress."</span><br /></div><br />Just don't stand in front of a stained-glass window, or you will completely disappear. Don't you have something a little plainer, JCP?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJRht0z-XKcAXf7HRuPZwpeawhRYlS0F4can9qBRaeybQ9sATBCGj8LBnjDikSF2wRLQ4-UicYIgfYg9h_79Stfle0BBrNFCE3Vfau4E0tRi9g3ONLBKm-O55vp7g-LEboJ1zY6yqfpYJ/s1600/fashion+4.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJRht0z-XKcAXf7HRuPZwpeawhRYlS0F4can9qBRaeybQ9sATBCGj8LBnjDikSF2wRLQ4-UicYIgfYg9h_79Stfle0BBrNFCE3Vfau4E0tRi9g3ONLBKm-O55vp7g-LEboJ1zY6yqfpYJ/s400/fashion+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588563899996860018" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;">"Ruffles and lace combine to create a look that is as elegant as it is romantic."<br /></div><br />Well, the color is better but we're back to that swooning mentality again. Sigh. Here are a few more lovely choices from, I swear to God, the "Wear To Work" section of JCP.com:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLgUz_ZDnH7pSyAXNzLZ-vWlNp9yhuGuOC-zy4_fwfbTnC-E2rb-Utq5oaklgl8IwYJSUjIWsAAsm-qYF_bPzJkjIOHcZUlV1ylGqnUE3T0fuUF6WWvOuKKduC642SoOTGOPbv4dVy9U1z/s1600/fashion+6.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLgUz_ZDnH7pSyAXNzLZ-vWlNp9yhuGuOC-zy4_fwfbTnC-E2rb-Utq5oaklgl8IwYJSUjIWsAAsm-qYF_bPzJkjIOHcZUlV1ylGqnUE3T0fuUF6WWvOuKKduC642SoOTGOPbv4dVy9U1z/s400/fashion+6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588563894851955842" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBy8DwraNFcFh7P3QkBRFByDKjPeIY_LoYZw34uFazvtEfZ9dlzWbyKQLDSefRmW_nzUzxd_FQ-ZcAcgTD-RjeE4eGSeRwfk7w1bIFaMkxFujslSaW-ZbHtUqa3aCiITpabYKsrN5fTP4/s1600/fashion+10.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBy8DwraNFcFh7P3QkBRFByDKjPeIY_LoYZw34uFazvtEfZ9dlzWbyKQLDSefRmW_nzUzxd_FQ-ZcAcgTD-RjeE4eGSeRwfk7w1bIFaMkxFujslSaW-ZbHtUqa3aCiITpabYKsrN5fTP4/s400/fashion+10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588573801051619442" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAfTYC569BHRfk6420nGlclnGpL5ISWdwP11zyQ7w7Hr-a6UYsYQ6aw4ovV21Ei_JKhe2XmBFmO1dy_N20GdKIqz6y4Pq2iYi3aZChiOLf76t8mo4MLwsox3pDYM-Bm30MnDrzJquSP6z-/s1600/fashion+9.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAfTYC569BHRfk6420nGlclnGpL5ISWdwP11zyQ7w7Hr-a6UYsYQ6aw4ovV21Ei_JKhe2XmBFmO1dy_N20GdKIqz6y4Pq2iYi3aZChiOLf76t8mo4MLwsox3pDYM-Bm30MnDrzJquSP6z-/s400/fashion+9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588573801678327314" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br />Have I mentioned that I heart sweatpants?<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~<br /></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-16990146576827804092011-03-26T05:37:00.003-05:002011-03-26T05:37:00.174-05:00Sleep After 50<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBdF04lWLnMu5PyTtjimx409AdVO2rwT9RXKATYWH78nGr_ddho_eQzKbBER4AzE8pvZOzuxVXzIP4ZTcu5TKYP5yKSYMVCchKjTyjWISZGWtTC-itXP6UMPCMt51XD3fPXAIncrwpRsfa/s1600/P6010002.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBdF04lWLnMu5PyTtjimx409AdVO2rwT9RXKATYWH78nGr_ddho_eQzKbBER4AzE8pvZOzuxVXzIP4ZTcu5TKYP5yKSYMVCchKjTyjWISZGWtTC-itXP6UMPCMt51XD3fPXAIncrwpRsfa/s400/P6010002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587966862740292306" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(must be nice ... clearly she is a long way from 50)<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">How To Sleep Like Someone Who Is Over Fifty:</span><br /><br />1. Drink 6 glasses of water just before bedtime.<br /><br />2. Sprain your ankle.<br /><br />3. Turn the heat in your bedroom to 82 degrees. At midnight, turn the air conditioning to 55. An hour later, go back to 82. And so on.<br /><br />4. Give up in frustration at 5 a.m. and tell yourself that you are extra smart and extra productive, since your days have at least 2 extra hours in them compared to everyone else. Slackers.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Warning:</span> Do NOT sit down and watch a movie, read a book, or hold a warm snuggly sleeping baby at ANY time during your extremely long and productive day. In fact, don't sit down at all. You wouldn't want to fall asleep, would you?<br /><br />Yeah. Me neither.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~<br /><br /></div><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-42993731861289360172011-03-24T20:32:00.003-05:002011-03-24T21:03:52.398-05:00Skin Care After 50<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIi5lFvSQ0HInaE80Ioetm8o8Q54mowWaYo1tbimtrgwc_VyNBr20SW9S1YClBzBrFjdZ9SVwalnnfyltc0IB06-57jzfiqLC-UlTYIIfBTdAhE7Cpj9xJ_9nuxOiA-ECEEFXVZlURGRBt/s1600/wrinkles.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 184px; height: 249px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIi5lFvSQ0HInaE80Ioetm8o8Q54mowWaYo1tbimtrgwc_VyNBr20SW9S1YClBzBrFjdZ9SVwalnnfyltc0IB06-57jzfiqLC-UlTYIIfBTdAhE7Cpj9xJ_9nuxOiA-ECEEFXVZlURGRBt/s400/wrinkles.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587824834696059618" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(if your skin does this, it's time to worry)<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Today I'm beginning a new series on Life After 50. Not that I will admit to being After 50, myself. It means absolutely nothing that I have socks older than all of my co-workers. They are all just children. Barely old enough to drive. Babies, really.<br /><br />Anyway.<br /><br />You will know that you're After 50 like me when you rub a little moisturizer under your eye, and the skin stays skewed off to the side until you rub it back in place.<br /><br />Then you'll notice little blotchy spots on your face that some people might call age spots except that would be terribly depressing so you back away from the magnifying mirror and pretend you never saw them.<br /><br />Next, you'll start paying very close attention to commercials for extremely expensive eye creams that promise to make your skin as clear and smooth as the 20-year-old model in the commercial who probably has that weird sun allergy because there is no other explanation for her perfectly white, smooth skin. Unless that eye cream really really works.<br /><br />Finally, you will decide that it's silly to buy expensive creams when you can simply fill in the wrinkles with extra foundation! What a great idea! And then cover it all with powder! That looks really really great!<br /><br />Remember, girls: Don't pay $100 for eye cream unless it comes with shoes and a handbag.<br /><br />Don't let younger co-workers intimidate you, just because they use code words like Hulu, Netflix and Streaming Bluetooth 3G Android Video, making you wonder if they are secretly recording your thoughts through your computer monitor.<br /><br />And don't stand too close to a magnifying mirror.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">~~~<br /><br /></span></div><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-54620568315085433752011-03-21T17:47:00.000-05:002011-03-21T17:47:00.089-05:00Big Hair<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2j4I1HQ7qJnLit1w-eih8uZPZHk926Pc5d-NpQxDrViY8FH6bm1TWXRr3mAv1wvvHsBKS0CT81AOrNkHRL3ctF4gZLB4Msf9dn4nif-sG8_sMtkZyMxIWSyr2nK2y6OP6tjqtC11zJvFk/s1600/big+hair+4.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 183px; height: 275px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2j4I1HQ7qJnLit1w-eih8uZPZHk926Pc5d-NpQxDrViY8FH6bm1TWXRr3mAv1wvvHsBKS0CT81AOrNkHRL3ctF4gZLB4Msf9dn4nif-sG8_sMtkZyMxIWSyr2nK2y6OP6tjqtC11zJvFk/s400/big+hair+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586299177721291458" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />(me, as a baby. was i adorable or what?)</span><br /></div><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Mandatory Disclaimer: </span><br />I am totally stealing the topic for this blog post from Fran, whose blog (<a href="http://ilurveenglish.blogspot.com/2011/03/reasons-why-i-always-envied-bob-marley.html?showComment=1300661161233#c3463140639532091726">here</a>) is always funnier than mine but only because she writes with a charming British accent which gives her an unfair advantage.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">And now, back to our regularly scheduled blog:<br /><br /></span></span>I live in Texas, where Big Hair is a must. In fact, this is my next-door neighbor, who went a little overboard trying to live up to the Texas Big Hair tradition. While we shake our heads sympathetically at the end result, we all admire her for her good intentions.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmO-QOKcJIApGb2mDZ-MPcafP1lxaSvFKclgpZgCYCUXnhLba36lj1OyAjGbGof2G5kUbgxIYX053FFvBYn70RS9uTW10SdErlW70wcX8UXsPUffGP1XSeo6eR2d27D7-zEawgIEfw_9au/s1600/big+hair+2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmO-QOKcJIApGb2mDZ-MPcafP1lxaSvFKclgpZgCYCUXnhLba36lj1OyAjGbGof2G5kUbgxIYX053FFvBYn70RS9uTW10SdErlW70wcX8UXsPUffGP1XSeo6eR2d27D7-zEawgIEfw_9au/s400/big+hair+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586299094656229890" border="0" /></a><br /><br />In order to really pull off Texas Big Hair, you need naturally dense follicles like mine. Not that I'm bragging. But my hair is so Big, I could donate half of it to charity and still have enough left over for several Farrah Fawcett wigs.<br /><br />My hair is so Big, when I get it thinned between cuts there's a pile on the floor the size of a Newfoundland puppy.<br /><br />My hair is so Big, if I flip over and blow-dry it upside down it comes out looking exactly like this:<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJKz5M_bf2rT_qFq6MwKZLEroMKFDXKi3zDARDghRKGEROIXK3j4_KguLPeHeaPxsC8mw3XlP2AvhMy48XWqtJuvhzmveGj7K4wfOzqlR0Xq9jFDON0CJP7RkJXX4aC1ax3DFjcJhiNKD/s1600/big+hair+1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 201px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJKz5M_bf2rT_qFq6MwKZLEroMKFDXKi3zDARDghRKGEROIXK3j4_KguLPeHeaPxsC8mw3XlP2AvhMy48XWqtJuvhzmveGj7K4wfOzqlR0Xq9jFDON0CJP7RkJXX4aC1ax3DFjcJhiNKD/s400/big+hair+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586299028336297794" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(no need to spray. it will stay that way all day long.)</span><br /></div><br />Fortunately, I discovered a wonderful invention that lets me have semi-normal hair. It's called a Chi.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9pr-fJF5c5wZKpeQ0dnAAu3fVUVwGCYbfG0bmuQZ-v1-Jol7Qf6ecM0XRLmzl2Y2EDp5evh1-wvLE9GKwTXC2VvPlLiWFXHc_RVLoD4IV5yM-1hUDSes3k8apOEZOTeQ5E_ug2ZYf6Bs/s1600/chi.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9pr-fJF5c5wZKpeQ0dnAAu3fVUVwGCYbfG0bmuQZ-v1-Jol7Qf6ecM0XRLmzl2Y2EDp5evh1-wvLE9GKwTXC2VvPlLiWFXHc_RVLoD4IV5yM-1hUDSes3k8apOEZOTeQ5E_ug2ZYf6Bs/s400/chi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586299371723306082" border="0" /></a><br /><br />In 30 seconds, this amazing device heats up to a bazillion degrees, allowing me to tame my big, crazy, uncontrollable hair for the first time in my entire life. I highly recommend it if you have Big hair like mine.<br /><br />BUT ... if you're using your Chi in the morning when you are half awake and it slips out of your grasp, do NOT try to catch it on the way down.<br /><br />Trust me on this.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">~~~<br /><br /><br /></span></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-88056572839414117372011-03-16T18:20:00.006-05:002011-03-16T18:46:38.227-05:00Dear Me:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiPFO7Lj-0u4lmRv0SPD2N8rZV7zRU2NbXU8BJd2RX0ZgVgS4Aj7sF4tcd3LOCTWNYrm7SxExSuaG2OjL0v8sFrTozNYcoC6tSnuTRFSOzXRAQIDir1UPgI-kzJJJtmmQFJZtTLWoqVv-a/s1600/sticky+note.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiPFO7Lj-0u4lmRv0SPD2N8rZV7zRU2NbXU8BJd2RX0ZgVgS4Aj7sF4tcd3LOCTWNYrm7SxExSuaG2OjL0v8sFrTozNYcoC6tSnuTRFSOzXRAQIDir1UPgI-kzJJJtmmQFJZtTLWoqVv-a/s400/sticky+note.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584828144075023490" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(i heart sticky notes)</span><br /></div><br /><br />I am totally not complaining, but my life is crazy. Now that I'm working full time, my feeble old brain needs to go in 10 different directions at once, for 10 straight hours every day. This is not easy for a feeble old brain.<br /><br />My solution? Sticky notes.<br /><br />In fact, I have quite a variety of sticky notes:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1. Job folder sticky notes:</span> My co-workers love my helpful sticky notes, which say helpful but extremely vague things like "Not crazy about this" or "Not feeling this" or "Please change." I simply have no time to be more specific. Read between the lines, people.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. Project management sticky notes:</span> These are the sticky notes which are stuck all over my computer monitor. I put each one there for a reason, but at this point I have no idea what that reason was. Fortunately, it is a very large monitor. So my system is intact for now.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. Bedside sticky notes:</span> I keep a fresh supply of sticky notes on the headboard of my bed at all times. This way, when I wake up at 3 am and realize that we are planning to mail 20,000 letters next week but I totally forgot that we need to design an envelope to mail them in, I can bolt upright in bed, grab my little sticky notes, realize that I have no pen, go into the bathroom, grab my eyeliner, and scribble "JOB VPB2 NEEDS ENV" which immediately blurs into something totally undecipherable which hopefully I will be able to decipher in the morning.<br /><br />Perhaps I need to develop other sticky notes, which might help me remember to throw some towels in the laundry, check up on my kids and eat lunch at least once a week.<br /><br />But for now, I'm just too busy.<br /><br />I have some envelopes to take care of.<br /><br />Catch ya later.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~<br /><br /><br /></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-17705928919268736082011-03-15T18:28:00.004-05:002011-03-15T18:48:26.593-05:00The Bachelor, Season Umpteen<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7K-7ohqIqypYKxQ0VMYTXGI2gZs9YguXfMBDzuxu5BadFKCPzrHP1Gy3dwSdYHJHdI-eP-6u_lCXA0Yi9bbvnWjP1Et29YbW9TBKv-kpLmzHAK5JjE83aiyzuOSv5MPt5eS2RrkyveRyh/s1600/alg_abc_bachelor.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7K-7ohqIqypYKxQ0VMYTXGI2gZs9YguXfMBDzuxu5BadFKCPzrHP1Gy3dwSdYHJHdI-eP-6u_lCXA0Yi9bbvnWjP1Et29YbW9TBKv-kpLmzHAK5JjE83aiyzuOSv5MPt5eS2RrkyveRyh/s400/alg_abc_bachelor.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584457519034512610" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(no brad, no! she's, like, totally the wrong woman for you!)<br /><br /></span></div><br />I'm sure you all followed Season Bazillion of The Bachelor just as closely as I did. What's that? You didn't watch it??? Really??? What on earth did you do on Monday nights, then?<br /><br />Here's what you missed:<br /><br />Hunky Bachelor Brad returned to national prominence, after being scorned and ridiculed for turning down TWO beautiful women on Season Bazillion Minus One, because, let's face it, he was just completely emotionally unavailable.<br /><br />Emotionally Unavailable Brad went through weeks of agonizing choices, sharing hot tubs and hot kisses and hot dates with hot women in hot outfits and ultimately giving the final rose, plus a huge engagement ring, to Emotionally Unavailable Emily.<br /><br />During the After Show, which the producers hoped would be the Dream Wedding Of Brad And Emily Show, both of them appeared quite Emotionally Unavailable. They both looked miserable. What a let-down.<br /><br />Here's what I learned:<br /><br />1. I just wasted the last 8 Mondays.<br /><br />2. I totally need to get a life.<br /><br />3. If you are emotionally unavailable, take ownership of that! Have some pride! Close yourself off and resign yourself to celibacy and stay AWAY from television cameras. Please.<br /><br />Now the only question is ... what am I going to do on Monday nights?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~<br /><br /></div>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4249300181335376357.post-43778327840142900922011-03-06T17:20:00.002-06:002011-03-06T17:36:00.742-06:00A Day In The Life Of A Unicorn<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEGE1CGtwDMqW9OyJBbnpoiYDgfDOCARwb9fGwIU4x8HuSTfaL7Ni41WqfyBWnRS4-dJq_AfC7lHaOCJ84s56hhsG1N9KMB5LDOyzAaccUSSExuVc0YK1I5Y-qN9jvuVWrmrrB5L11zVKC/s1600/IMG_0188.JPG"><br /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxU3nejr47u5CzlVmjbl3ttSvoNdgxfLXaXJE-lYzyu41B2yjmEosWaCjvydfMcN7Z5jQ7d-80CA2HoiAjyvGBGM6IF8lsHGbIFJVqhvVLcKU4fNi0khaHaUWXkNsQk9026r-N3Sa1pkti/s1600/IMG_0183.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxU3nejr47u5CzlVmjbl3ttSvoNdgxfLXaXJE-lYzyu41B2yjmEosWaCjvydfMcN7Z5jQ7d-80CA2HoiAjyvGBGM6IF8lsHGbIFJVqhvVLcKU4fNi0khaHaUWXkNsQk9026r-N3Sa1pkti/s400/IMG_0183.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581111801185407746" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;">(this is one spoiled unicorn, let me tell ya)<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Today was another sunny day in Texas -<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Gramma! Shush! My unicorn is sleeping.</span></span><br /><br />Oh. Sorry. Where is he sleeping?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >She! It's a she! SHUSH.</span><br /><br />She. Fine. Where is SHE sleeping?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >In the hat, of course.</span><br /><br />Oh sure. The hat.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><br />Can you talk quieter? She is very sad. She needs to sleep.</span><br /><br />Why is she sad?<br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><br />Because her fairy friends Azura and Ariella got shot.</span><br /><br />Oh really? That is very sad.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Yes. They got shot by the wicked queen. She shot the unicorn in the wings. Do you think you could find a doctor who can fix my unicorn? Can you Gramma? Please?</span><br /><br />Well of course. In fact, I can even make YOU into a magical unicorn.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >You can??</span><br /><br />Yes. That's what Gramma's do. We take little girls, and we magically transform them into the most special, beautiful, amazing creatures in the whole wide world. Are you ready?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >I'm ready.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></div></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyN7CfpdzYTQy60gOLbwPf_-2PBzzV1aj6QsRw9VL6URxjzXmkT3pPiAO3CfjFiaLd5Z6nnBm9ROkS2xASc7LJnbxraoFYzQ3qoYvFrRyaXoG7hPRlu0GbGrVWKy0BO4sJ5H9ZeLmCQg0l/s1600/IMG_0187-1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyN7CfpdzYTQy60gOLbwPf_-2PBzzV1aj6QsRw9VL6URxjzXmkT3pPiAO3CfjFiaLd5Z6nnBm9ROkS2xASc7LJnbxraoFYzQ3qoYvFrRyaXoG7hPRlu0GbGrVWKy0BO4sJ5H9ZeLmCQg0l/s400/IMG_0187-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581113206019349362" border="0" /></a><br />I love you Riley.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >I love you too, Gramma.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV42uBZtJO-33XmXNwUd5ltZEVqYHkMGTsbKt-W1ohn72AXI8qbvaPCwIXfRQbRR_JSIXSRfpmOmEQ-ei2tUnfSjV8oNJ1uOcfoBKrXoIrq7lJtamf6lwqcUJg2Kr4awEiFt3ItrlTW04p/s1600/IMG_0188.JPG"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV42uBZtJO-33XmXNwUd5ltZEVqYHkMGTsbKt-W1ohn72AXI8qbvaPCwIXfRQbRR_JSIXSRfpmOmEQ-ei2tUnfSjV8oNJ1uOcfoBKrXoIrq7lJtamf6lwqcUJg2Kr4awEiFt3ItrlTW04p/s1600/IMG_0188.JPG"><br /></a>Lesleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17726995606953732736noreply@blogger.com1