Do we really need to label the aisle "feminine hygiene products"? Can't we just call them tampons?
Do we really need to label the aisle "feminine hygiene products"? Can't we just call them tampons?
...the status of the ants.
I had to fly to Oklahoma City this morning for a meeting. I forgot to check the ants before I left. Thankfully, I flew back this afternoon so you don't have to wait a whole day to get an ant update.
And here it is…. They’re gone. That’s right. I just checked and I don't see any. I know, I’m a little surprised myself. As far as I can figure, this evacuation is for one of two reasons.
1) My smart husband filled a pie dish with water and set the dog dish in it. In effect, he's placed a moat around the food (a.k.a. protein source). This has either solved the problem or the ants are congregating somewhere designing plans for a teeny tiny drawbridge.or
2) They are, in fact, stressed out from all the spraying and have scattered. From what I've read, if this is the case, I expect to wake up some morning to my house being marched down our street on the backs of the millions of teeny tiny ants that are multiplying as we speak.
Regardless, there are no ants today.
I'm going to call that progress and move on for now.
Thief Ants. I think they are Thief Ants.
I've done quite a bit of research today. Which has left me anxious and with an overall creeped-out feeling. Since starting to write this post, I've scratched my neck. back and legs 12 times.
Yet another site said this about the Thief Ant
Thief ants are very small, two nodes, one size, light brown or yellow. They are found throughout the U.S. Theif ants nest near other ant colonies and steal food and larvae to feed their own colony. Outside they nest under rocks or logs, inside wall voides and behind baseboards. Move in trails along baseboards, seaking greasy foods, rarely sweet.
I'm assuming they mean they are rarely after sweet foods. Not that the ant itself is rarely sweet. This sounds dead on. They even had a picture of one, which, to tell the truth isn't all that helpful seeing as though I'm not willing to get a microscope to examine these guys closely. My ants ARE moving along the baseboard. And they are gathering around the dogs dishes. Is dog food greasy? Probably so.
So, okay, Thief Ants. I googled to see how to control them and found this.
"Thief ants are more difficult to manage with baits than other ants."
HA! I thought. Good thing I've been spraying them!
Now for the bad news:
Spraying Thief Ants inside the home will not prevent more ants from entering and may cause more harm as it will stress the colony and cause them to flee and make more nests.
Just what I need. Stressed ants.
The creeped-out neck/back/leg scratch count is up to 27.
We have ants.
Little teeny tiny ants.
Like this big ~ maybe smaller. I'm not kidding. They are the smallest ants I've ever seen. And I did a field study in insects when I was in college. Of course, I was probably too drunk to notice anything smaller than a pop top on a beer can but I digress.
One of these tilda sized creatures would hardly make a difference or annoy me. Heck, I probably wouldn't even notice 50 of them. I have a tendency to overlook teeny tiny things. Let me see ... here's what 50 would look like
Yep. I have more than 50. It's very gross. I'm not happy.
Just what makes that little ol ant, think he can .....come into my kitchen with 1000 or so of his friends?
When I was 6 years old I got some money for my birthday. My mom took me to a store and I picked out a Winnie the Pooh. He sat high on a shelf – well, high for me anyway – with 20 or so look-alike Poohs. He was yellow. He wore a red crop top with the word “Pooh” embroidery on it in yellow thread and no pants. At the time that didn’t seem strange to me, now I think he looks like he just stepped out of a gay pride parade. Anyway, he was terrific.
Many stuffed animals and plastic dolls have come and gone in my life. There was Drowsy – who when you pulled her string told you how tired she was. There was the red mouse that someone gave me when I was a baby. There was Gronk. Don’t ask me what Gronk was – i don’t really know. Just sort of a greenish roundish thing with purple feet and a big black mouth. Sounds frightening, I know, but he was very squishy and that made up for it. There was Roly Poly- a little stuffed dog. And a grey elephant I named Mine when I was going through a very protective stage of development. In fact, I had so many stuffed animals that my parents made a rule that I could only sleep with two each night. It sounds severe here but believe me, I was in danger of being evicted from my bed by Raggedy Ann, Andy and all their comrades.
So two animals it was. One of those would change nightly. But one was always Pooh.
I was sick a lot when I was a kid. So was my father. Between the two of us, I spent a lot of time in hospitals. When you’re a kid and you’re afraid, certain stuffed friends become very important to you. I can’t think of my childhood without thinking of Pooh – and the whole Pooh clan.
I’m 36 now. Drowsy was lost long ago. Roly Poly and others were sold at garage and yard sales through the years and I have no idea what happened to Raggedy Ann and Andy. But I still have Pooh. He sits on a shelf in my basement. He has no eyes – lost those during my teen years to my Labrador puppy. He has no mouth – I picked that off during a particularly distressing bout of insomnia during one nap time. He had a tracheotomy performed by another dog of mine, Nick, and half his stuffing ripped out when I was in high school. I don’t remember when he lost his shirt but it is gone as well. Really all he is now is a yellow blob. A dirty, yellow blob of Pooh.
And when I read this today - Paul Winchell, voice of Winnie the Pooh's Tigger dies - I cried.
Steve and I went to see Mr. and Mrs. Smith today. We both enjoyed it. It was fine. We chuckled at the appropriate times. We cringed at others. It was good.
Later, we had a long talk about Angelina Jolie. We both are on the line as to whether she is beautiful or hideous. Steve says she shouldn’t wear her hair up – he says that makes a big difference. “With it up, she looks …. Wrong.” Wrong. Good word choice. I waiver back and forth. Sometimes good looking. Sometimes …. Well, not so good.
It reminded me of my theory that things in life that we believe are on a straight line continuum (such as appearance – beautiful at one end and hideous at the other) really aren’t. Instead, I believe it is more of a circular thing. So that beauty and butt-ugly are actually right next to each other.
Here, I’ve drawn it out for you.
Here is how most people view the attractiveness scale:
Beauty and ugly being on opposite ends and a vast chasm in-between.
Here is how I see it:
See? Drop dead georgous and just Drop Dead are actually very close to each other. Don’t believe me? Ask any girl who went to bed with a god and woke up with a ohmigod. The two are veeeery close to each other.
The circle continuum theory works for other things as well. Love and Hate, for example.
As anyone who has been in a bad relationship can tell you, the opposite of love is not hate. It’s apathy. Which falls somewhere in the middle of the circle.
Obese and anorexic look like this:
Both are eating disorders. Both victims suffer. Both need help.
Or having worked in the advertising field for years, I can tell you that this one is also true:
Keep this circle continuum in mind next time you encounter an extreme. Or the next time you encounter Angelia Jolie.
They replayed the episode of Tom Cruise on Oprah today. The one that “started it all”. “All” meaning the hubbub about Tom being half out of his gourd because of the way he behaved on the show.
So I watched it.
I saw what’s been called the “over the top” behavior. I watched him “go berserk”. I have to say, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. Strange at times, sure, but not THAT big of a deal. To tell the truth, I was disappointed. And not just because I didn’t see his head spin around and watch him levitate 6 inches off the ground the way I expected after all the hype. But because he was – um – how should I say this – boring.
Yes, he jumped up on the couch.
Yes, he proclaimed his love.
Yes, he kept going down on one knee and doing a “I’m starting the lawnmower” type move with his right arm. (and doing it and doing it)
But all in all, I have to say …
He didn’t really say much.
He talked about his movie, The War of the Worlds. I guess that was all right. He talked about Katie and that was okay too. But overall, man oh man was he a snoozer. Which just goes to show you, talented people aren’t necessarily interesting people.
And just because someone is talented doesn’t necessarily mean I want to hang out with them. Talent does not equal sociability.
Take Mr. Contino for example. He was my oboe coach when I was in high school – yes, I had a coach – for the oboe. He was very talented. He also had breath that could drop a horse. Every week I would walk into the very small room where we had my lesson and make a beeline for the window to open it. I remember doing this once during a typical Indiana ice storm. It wasn’t easy to explain. But it was necessary.
Or Dr. Harmes who was my calculus professor in college. He was talented. He also could get a night job as a sleep therapist – or during the day for that matter. In a room with bright white lights. And a Yoko Ono album playing.
Or anyone who sings barber shop.
I think you get my point.
So now I’m wondering – are talent and sociability mutually exclusive? Can you be talented – and still be social? If you are extremely gifted – can you “fit in”?
And if not, would I rather be talented or social?
Steve and I are going to start giving the kid an allowance. We’re thinking about 5 dollars a week which seems like the right amount. I’m not sure why, but it seems good. I’m excited about it – I like the idea of teaching her about money. I like that she’ll be able to spend it on whatever she wants and learn how fast it can go. I like the idea of continuing a legacy.
I got an allowance growing up. I don’t remember how much it was. I do remember that my sister and I got different amounts – she’s older; she got more. I never really agreed with that, as you can imagine, but I wasn’t going to argue. I learned early you don’t look an allowance horse in the mouth.
I also remember that whenever my dad got a raise at work, we got a raise in our allowance. Which looking back on now, I think is really cool. I’m sure there was a lesson tied to that somehow. I can specifically remember one time dad told us – during family dinner – that he had gotten a raise at work and therefore, we’d be getting an increase as well! My sister’s allowance was going from X to X+ and mine was going from Y to Y+! As you can imagine, there was much happiness at the dinner table.
Later I replayed the announcement and realized that while I was getting a 25 cent or so raise, my sister – who was ALREADY richer than I – was getting a 35 cent or so raise. This was upsetting to say the least. And in my mind, entirely unfair.
I knew my father well enough at that young age to know there was a right way and a wrong way to approach this. Approach it the wrong way and I would appear ungrateful, spoiled, and I would lose the raise all together. But! Approach it the right way and he would be understanding and sympathetic. Approach it the right way and he would realize his error and the gross injustice that had occurred.
This could go either way.
It was all in my hands.
I thought about it then applied a technique I has mastered. I stood in the hallway outside his bedroom and began to cry.
It wasn’t long until he peered around the corner at me. “What’s up kiddo?”
Through a series of glub glubs I explained my situation. He listened closely then got up and went to his open briefcase. He came back with a (humongous) calculator. He then proceeded to show me that although my sister technically got more money I got a higher percentage of a raise.
“See that?” he asked showing me a point something something on the calculator. “You actually got a BIGGER raise than she did!” He said this with a smile. He even sort of dropped his voice a little like we were in ca-hoots and getting away with something. “How about that!”
See, my father was a salesman. And all good salesmen know how to turn a situation around to make it look like it is in your best interest. He knew me having a bigger raise than my big sister would appeal to me. He knew the idea of he and I having a secret would appeal to me. He knew that I was often razzle-dazzled by a calculator. And I have to admit, it was a good try. However, he forgot something very important.
Never underestimate your audience.
“But Daddy,” I said, having dried the tears by this time and pointing to the calculator, “I can’t take that number to the store and buy more candy with it.”
I got my extra 10 cents.
The inventor of Dippin' Dots was on Oprah today.
He still claims it is the ice cream of the future. Personally I think ANY ice cream will be in my future so in a way, he may be right.
Weird coincidence to see him there after I was just talking about him.
I've never considered myself a prude.
Today I saw a story about a children’s book called Rainbow Party. The cover of the book spells out the title in crayon-colored writing. It also shows different colors of lipstick. It is published by the children’s branch of Simon & Schuster publishing. It is classified as "juvenile fiction" and the reading level is listed as "young adult". It’s about a party. A party where 14 and 15 year old girls perform oral sex on boys. Each girl wears a different color lipstick so the boys have “rainbow evidence” of the party.
14 and 15 year old girls.
My daughter is only 7 or so years away from being 14.
And here I go with the phrase I swore I’d never say: What is WRONG with people today? How can THIS actually be seen as a good thing? Of course, you know what the pro camp is saying: “kids are doing it anyway, we should talk about it.”
I’m not opposed to talking about anything. I AM opposed to celebrating it in printed form. Oral sex. High school sophomores. My first experience with any thing even remotely close to this was … uh, wait a second, my mom reads this. Let’s just say if someone in my high school suggested a rainbow party, I would have shown up in multi-colored tube socks.
Where is the balance? Where is the line? Freedom of speech, freedom of the press, of course I’m for them. But why does our society keep pushing and pushing and getting raunchier and raunchier?
Now I should say this, I haven’t read Rainbow Party. Maybe there is some redeeming value. From reviews I see that in the end, the plans for the party are abandoned because of fear of STDs. I guess that’s the educational part. Of course, I think most of us can remember when only whores and sailors had STDs – no offense to any sailors out there. Or whores for that matter.
I guess I’m just saddened by it all. When I was a kid, Kermit sang about the rainbow connection, Dorothy was trying to find her way back over the rainbow and Mork held his pants up with rainbow suspenders.
Today … well, today there’s Rainbow Party.
I’ll never look at ROY G. BIV the same way again.