When someone asks, “How are you?” how do you respond? For most people, if you are good, you say, “Fine, and you?” If you are not so good, the response will be more like, “Oh, everything is horrible right now. It’s raining, my dog/cat/canary just died, and I think I’m coming down with something.” But rarely, even if we are spectacular, do we relay that in detail to an acquaintance. That would be bragging, considered a sin equivalent to shoplifting or talking during a movie in society’s eyes.
Why do I start out this way? Well, I got in a bit a trouble at home over last week’s column. Normally, Nate doesn’t read my columns. But for some reason, he picked up a copy of the Tribune-Phonograph last week for some Friday night reading. “You make me look like an idiot,” he said in an annoyed voice. I happened to be attempting to feed Jacob a little cereal at the time, barely paying attention. I politely responded with our circulation numbers. The response I got was “the look.” You all know the one. The one a significant other gives that cannot be crossed. Most of the time, the men are on the receiving end, but roles were reversed this time.
Most of the time, my columns come out sarcastic and complaining about something. I haven’t been working in this industry too long, but I know people don’t like to read about happy, flowery, “the world is a wonderful place” stuff. As part of my job, I sometimes deliver newspapers to stores in the area. I think that comes under the “Other duties to be assigned” part of my job description. It’s interesting to see what stories make people buy a newspaper more. This fall we had an interesting contrast from one week to the next. The first was a happy picture of people carving pumpkins. Just makes your insides all warm thinking about it, huh? The next week was a dark, smokey picture of rubble that once was home to a herd of dairy cows. Guess which people wanted to read about more? That’s right, the awful reality of the barn fire disaster.
It’s just human nature to be curious about the sad events. We like to have our heart strings tugged on. We like to feel emotion. Unfortunately, it’s a lot easier to convey sadness, heartbreak, anger and stupidity than love and happiness. So Nate, here’s the thing. I could write about what a nice guy you are, but people don’t want to read about that. And, I hate to brag too much. And honey, as long as I’m writing this column, be prepared for more tongue-in-cheek remarks and occasional harassment. Each week when I write my letter to the readers, I try to come up with something most everyone can relate to and make people think about their own lives. A crazy family, goofy significant other and silly childhood memories seems to get the brain juices flowing.
So sorry, family. You’re still in my sights.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
This column pissed Nate off...he he...
I’m pretty sure that in Latin, the word “wife” means, “one who finds things.” Because if I had a dollar for every time Nate asked, “Where is my...?” I’d be retired on some Caribbean beach right now. Maybe it’s because I’m home more, or maybe it’s just because I actually put things away, but I can always find what Nate is looking for around home. Be it a belt, inhaler, checkbook, pen, magazine, etc., I almost always can tell him right where to find it.
My mom is much better at this than I am. I suppose it’s because she’s been married 26 years and chased after five children. When we were kids, it was always shoes. They had a tendency to walk off by themselves after we took them off after school the day before. “Where did you leave them last?” was always the question. And I would think, duh, if I remembered, I wouldn’t need help. But a lot of the time, I did remember. Unfortunately, there were 12 other hands in the house that could move them. Not to mention the mouth of a dog or two. But somehow, my mom could always reach under the coach, or from behind a door, and produce the missing shoes. I always wondered how she knew.
I lost my glasses not long ago, and she threatened to come up and find them for me. Scary thing is, I’d bet she would walk in and pull them right out from under the seat of my car or from behind a lotion bottle in the bathroom cupboard. Having experienced it first hand, I know it’s slightly annoying to have someone make you feel a little dumb for losing so many items. But like my mom, I take a little smug pleasure in telling Nate exactly where his lost item now rests. The problem is he hardly ever puts anything away. If he wears a belt, it stays in his pants until I go to wash them. There’s been more than one occasion where I didn’t see the belt and it got washed right along with the jeans.
Medicines that get left out go back to one of two cupboards. Amazingly, Nate hasn’t figured this out yet. When he asks where his inhaler went, it’s always in the cupboard beside the sink. Some things are more random. Most of the time, he carries his checkbook with him, but he also will leave it at home until a magazine gets set on top of it on the table. Then it’s up to me to solve this mystery. Maybe it’s because I’m the evil magazine reader who hid his checkbook.
There are a few things I don’t mind having him leave around. Change and single bills left in pockets become my lunch money. I call it my laundry fee. Other forgotten items are not appreciated. He may complain if I have pop and water bottles or food wrappers left on my car floor. However, if he looked closer, he would find that at least half are his own.
Unfortunately, losing things seems to be hereditary as I’ve learned from my own family experience. All too soon, it will be Jacob who can’t find his shoes. But by then, Nate should have me trained good enough that I’ll be an expert “wife.”
My mom is much better at this than I am. I suppose it’s because she’s been married 26 years and chased after five children. When we were kids, it was always shoes. They had a tendency to walk off by themselves after we took them off after school the day before. “Where did you leave them last?” was always the question. And I would think, duh, if I remembered, I wouldn’t need help. But a lot of the time, I did remember. Unfortunately, there were 12 other hands in the house that could move them. Not to mention the mouth of a dog or two. But somehow, my mom could always reach under the coach, or from behind a door, and produce the missing shoes. I always wondered how she knew.
I lost my glasses not long ago, and she threatened to come up and find them for me. Scary thing is, I’d bet she would walk in and pull them right out from under the seat of my car or from behind a lotion bottle in the bathroom cupboard. Having experienced it first hand, I know it’s slightly annoying to have someone make you feel a little dumb for losing so many items. But like my mom, I take a little smug pleasure in telling Nate exactly where his lost item now rests. The problem is he hardly ever puts anything away. If he wears a belt, it stays in his pants until I go to wash them. There’s been more than one occasion where I didn’t see the belt and it got washed right along with the jeans.
Medicines that get left out go back to one of two cupboards. Amazingly, Nate hasn’t figured this out yet. When he asks where his inhaler went, it’s always in the cupboard beside the sink. Some things are more random. Most of the time, he carries his checkbook with him, but he also will leave it at home until a magazine gets set on top of it on the table. Then it’s up to me to solve this mystery. Maybe it’s because I’m the evil magazine reader who hid his checkbook.
There are a few things I don’t mind having him leave around. Change and single bills left in pockets become my lunch money. I call it my laundry fee. Other forgotten items are not appreciated. He may complain if I have pop and water bottles or food wrappers left on my car floor. However, if he looked closer, he would find that at least half are his own.
Unfortunately, losing things seems to be hereditary as I’ve learned from my own family experience. All too soon, it will be Jacob who can’t find his shoes. But by then, Nate should have me trained good enough that I’ll be an expert “wife.”
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Regifting: Tacky or thrifty?
Regifting: Is it tacky or thrifty? Many of us are currently facing this dilemma. It’s one of the drawbacks of Christmas. The gift-giving is done, so now what do we do with the stuff? In my little house, it’s tough enough to find room for the things I love, let alone the things that I don’t love so much.
Now I know a lot of my family and friends read this column, so let me first say good job guys. I can’t think of a single gift this year I wanted to throw out my car window on the drive home. But other years, I haven’t been so lucky. One year, I had a sweater that sat in the plastic wrapping for a year and a half before I finally wore it. And then, it was worn to feed calves. It was a good sweater, and I’m sure it wasn’t cheap. But, it just wasn’t my color or style. I didn’t have the receipt and the tags were off already, so I didn’t know which store it came from.
Although I can’t recall any specific regifting incidents, I’ve been tempted. In case you are, too, I’ve done a little research into the subject. Etiquette experts disagree on regifting. Some say it is bad form, but others say the focus shouldn’t be on the gift but what it represents. If someone could get more pleasure or use out of the item, why not give it to them? However, one must be extremely cautious while regifting. Nothing could be more embarrassing than giving the gift back to the original giver. At least keep track of who gave it to you. Better yet, send the gift to someone who couldn’t possibly see the original gifter. You wouldn’t want your sister opening a gift from your mother right in front of her. Out of state is the best place for regifts.
Regifts must be re-wrapped as well. Ripped and re-taped wrapping paper is tacky. You’d hate to have the target of regifting find a gift tag with a name other than their own on it. If the guilt is too much to handle, be honest. I received several nice sweaters for Christmas last year. Unfortunately, I outgrew them before I could really use them. They are now the property of my skinny sisters. “Here you go,” I told them. “I’m too fat for these now.” That maneuver killed two birds. They stopped taking up space in my closet and they will get worn before they go out of style.
Handmade and one of a kind items should not be regifted under any circumstances. Some things, like the snowman made from a sock courtesy of your mother-in-law, you will just have to grit your teeth and bear each holiday season until you can get the dog to chew it up.
If you suspect you have been a target of regifting, it’s polite not to say anything. If you dare to regift, you must be ready to accept the consequences. Some things just beg to be regifted, but all in good fun. Champagne and fruit cake are good examples. I also have a feeling someone in this office will receive a giant bucket of Play-Doh in our next gift exchange.
But remember, regifting does have its limits. So please, if something really is hideous, put it where it belongs: eBay.
Now I know a lot of my family and friends read this column, so let me first say good job guys. I can’t think of a single gift this year I wanted to throw out my car window on the drive home. But other years, I haven’t been so lucky. One year, I had a sweater that sat in the plastic wrapping for a year and a half before I finally wore it. And then, it was worn to feed calves. It was a good sweater, and I’m sure it wasn’t cheap. But, it just wasn’t my color or style. I didn’t have the receipt and the tags were off already, so I didn’t know which store it came from.
Although I can’t recall any specific regifting incidents, I’ve been tempted. In case you are, too, I’ve done a little research into the subject. Etiquette experts disagree on regifting. Some say it is bad form, but others say the focus shouldn’t be on the gift but what it represents. If someone could get more pleasure or use out of the item, why not give it to them? However, one must be extremely cautious while regifting. Nothing could be more embarrassing than giving the gift back to the original giver. At least keep track of who gave it to you. Better yet, send the gift to someone who couldn’t possibly see the original gifter. You wouldn’t want your sister opening a gift from your mother right in front of her. Out of state is the best place for regifts.
Regifts must be re-wrapped as well. Ripped and re-taped wrapping paper is tacky. You’d hate to have the target of regifting find a gift tag with a name other than their own on it. If the guilt is too much to handle, be honest. I received several nice sweaters for Christmas last year. Unfortunately, I outgrew them before I could really use them. They are now the property of my skinny sisters. “Here you go,” I told them. “I’m too fat for these now.” That maneuver killed two birds. They stopped taking up space in my closet and they will get worn before they go out of style.
Handmade and one of a kind items should not be regifted under any circumstances. Some things, like the snowman made from a sock courtesy of your mother-in-law, you will just have to grit your teeth and bear each holiday season until you can get the dog to chew it up.
If you suspect you have been a target of regifting, it’s polite not to say anything. If you dare to regift, you must be ready to accept the consequences. Some things just beg to be regifted, but all in good fun. Champagne and fruit cake are good examples. I also have a feeling someone in this office will receive a giant bucket of Play-Doh in our next gift exchange.
But remember, regifting does have its limits. So please, if something really is hideous, put it where it belongs: eBay.
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