Oct 1, 2019 | What's going on |
Guest post by Sister of the Blog “The Squidz” Elizabeth
Sarah is an enneagram twelve. She’s sure of it.
If you have not heard of the Enneagram, this isn’t the place to learn about it. On all things typology, Sarah prefers to swing between radio silence on her blog and outrage from her couch.
That is why I, the sister who enjoys the more intellectual pursuits of life, have taken it upon myself to shed some light on the topic. She would rather attend an American Legion parade in 103-degree weather than dignify the Enneagram “fad” by giving it attention on her blog.
As it stands, the task is left to me to explain. Since I value our relationship in general and her generous trips to Dunkin’ Donuts in particular, a lengthy explanation seems precarious. I’m already walking on fragile interweb turf. I don’t want to fall through a digital rabbit hole and meet the OshKoshBGosh wearing Sarah of 2005 as she sits down at her giant Dell computer to check her emails. I’d just rather not, so the Enneagram background story will be shorter than the laundering instructions stitched on the inside of pair of overalls.
The Enneagram system suggests that, in general, human beings see the world in nine different ways. These “lenses” influence the way a person sees herself, her relationships, and her purpose in life. Sarah and I have visited several times since the Enneagram entered our lives. Every time, she asks, “What do you think I am again?” She doesn’t ask because she really wants to know. She asks, “So I can speak your language, Squidzen.” Obviously, she doesn’t listen. This is why we cover the same information at least 27 times per visit.
“What number do you think I am again, Squidzz?”
“Well, you’re not supposed to tell other people what they are. But I think you’re a Six. This means you’re very loyal and also can tend to be anxious and prepare for the worst.”
“What!? I’m not anxious! When do I prepare for the worst? I’m very upbeat and positive!”
“You sleep with a baseball bat under your bed. You said it’s there to defend yourself against intruders. And you do have about 3,492 boxes of bandaids, about 17 flashlights in your car, and a glove compartment full of coffee supplies that you’ve collected for months in case Dunkin Donuts runs out. Plus, any time I frown, you ask me if I’m about to climb on a roof and jump off.”
“Well, it’s because YOU are a UPS. A CVS. An EFIPHGJ.”
“You mean an INFP. And an HSP. A highly sensitive person.”
“Oh, my word. AREN’T WE ALL? I don’t like hearing the neighbor’s dogs barking in the middle of the night! I don’t like it when loud noises disturb my sleep! But that’s not because I’m a SPHEGU. It’s because I have a very talkative daughter and would prefer not to have a talkative dog intruding on my beauty sleep.”
“I think it’s more than that….”
“WELL, I DON’T! IT’S RIDICULOUS!”
I sigh.
It’s only a matter of time until she asks me all over again.
However, just a few weeks ago, we had a breakthrough.
We’d just finished watching You Before Me. During the opening credits, Sarah had insisted that we should cry. Not having understood the plot at all, I did not comply. But Sarah went above and beyond the call of duty. She announced that she had been crying real tears. In wonder, I insisted that she remove her glasses so I could inspect her eyes. She did and, sure enough, tears dribbled down her face. I was thrilled.
For a while, we both lay on the couch. The late hour and the tragic movie quieted us. Then, Sarah put down her phone.
“I’m DEFINITELY a twelve.”
I was no longer sleepy. “What?”
“I’m a twelve. All the greatest people are twelves.”
She flicked her finger over the screen of her phone and exhaled in a superior way.
“Twelves are well-behaved, VERY well-behaved,” she said. “Twelves like glitter and sparkles. Betsy Ross was a twelve. The Founding Fathers wanted to create an American flag that only had stripes. Betsy was appalled. She added the stars. If it wasn’t for Betsy, the American flag would be completely made out of stripes. That’s what twelves do–they add stars to things.”
“Wow!” I was amazed. “Do you know of any other twelves?”
“Oh, sure. Betsy Ross is the original twelve. But Kate Middleton, Hoda Kotb, and Dick VanDyke are also twelves. Twelves are funny. Well-loved. All the positives.”
As I lay and watched the blur of Sarah’s finger racing over Words with Friends, the reality began to set in for me. It’s no coincidence that a muffin tin holds twelve muffins, an egg carton holds twelve eggs, the year holds twelve months, a foot has twelve inches, and recovery programs have twelve steps. Roses, jury members, and the Days of Christmas come in twelves. Jesus even chose twelve Apostles.
Come to think of it, maybe her type needs no intellectual explanation. Their zany touch is all around us.
Sometimes, on a crisp Autumn afternoon, I think I hear twelve drummers drumming to celebrate Sarah and the Twelves.
Or maybe that’s just Betsy Ross stomping her foot in defense of those stars on the American flag.
Sep 12, 2019 | What's going on |
The hunt for a new church continues. It’s been a long and arduous process with very little success. I’m tempted to start Mattress Springs Baptist at home and not leave the bed on Sunday morning but we press on. We were invited to a friends church and have attended the last three weeks. Somewhere along the line, they got our contact information so Bev from the welcome committee showed up on our front step today. I wasn’t going to answer the door but she saw me look at her through the window so I had no choice. We had just gotten home from swimming and running errands in the 100* weather and I was in no shape to be entertaining. No doubt Bev thought this when she saw me.
Bev acknowledged that they like to “show up unannounced.” I guess she hasn’t read the Sarah Version of the Bible that reads, “And do not catch people unaware and in a hairstyle they do not wish to be seen in, but alert them before you show up midafternoon on a Wednesday.” But she brought us a Dunkin Donuts gift card so I guess that answers the question of which church we’ll be joining.
Speaking of coffee, last week I went to the fancy coffee shop on the other side of town. Their website says they’re “Springville’s premier coffee shop” which isn’t a difficult accomplishment given that they’re Springville’s ONLY coffee shop. I rolled up to the order window and stared stupidly at the girl when she asked what I’d like. I completely forgot where I was and what I was there for. I looked at her and she looked at me. It was as if I had never used a drive through before.
Speaking of drive-throughs, I’ve had to give Sesame many a lesson on drive-through etiquette lately. It’s a known fact that the driver gets the orders of all passengers before approaching the order box and said passengers need to be quiet while the driver orders. AB knows this. She’s been to many a drive-through in her short life, but for some reason she’s decided I haven’t done a sufficiant job ordering and she’ll call out her order from the backseat as I’m speaking. I know if we go to Chickfila she’ll want a kids meal with 6 nuggets, fries and a small lemonade. She gets the same thing every time. I’ll be in the middle of ordering and she’ll yell out, “DON’T FORGET MY KIDS TOY! DON’T FORGET MY YEMONADE!” At Dunkin Donuts she’ll call out, “Can I have hashfries? Can I have milk? Do they have doughnuts today?” as I place my medium iced coffee, regular sugar extra cream order. The worker can’t hear so I have to repeat but AB thinks she needs to repeat. It’s chaos. If she thinks she’s so great to ordering she can start paying too. I’ll be over in the corner watching the whole thing while I drink my free coffee courtesy of Bev.
Aug 21, 2019 | What's going on |
* I’m not up on local news, so I was confused when I got to work on Friday night and the boss said for us to keep the door locked at all times and leave as soon as the class was done. We weren’t to take time to clean up. She said maybe we should park our cars right in front of the studio so we wouldn’t have to walk across the parking lot in the dark. I asked what on earth was happening and she said: “There’s supposed to be a big gang shoot-out tonight so we have to take extra precautions.”
That is not what I expected her to say.
A handful of people downtown had been shot in recent days and rumor had it that a family member of one gang was killed and the other gang was blamed for it. Whether or not that’s true, that was the story in our part of town and the police were on high alert. I’m no seasoned gang member, but it seems to me that a shoot-out wouldn’t be a scheduled event. I highly doubt that one gang delivers an elegantly scripted invitation on decorative paper, but what do I know?
This isn’t my first go-round being near gun violence since my marriage. Several years ago I made a midnight escape to Jenn’s house when someone was shot in our apartment complex and the shooter spent several days on the loose. It was during that time I learned the Clarksville 911 had business hours and wasn’t a 24/7 operation. I need to stop living in crime areas. When I got home from the lock downed studio, all the doors to my house were unlocked, all the blinds were open, the lights were on and Christopher and AB were both asleep. They might as well have left an “open house, free for all” sign on the front door.
* When Elizabeth was visiting, we went to the Y for a zumba class. They changed the class times without updating the schedule, so when we got there we walked into a strength training class instead of zumba. We decided to stay because it seemed like a waste of workout clothes if we didn’t. Who am I kidding. I wear workout clothes without working out 75% of the time. I have no upper body strength and I think that was obvious to everyone in the class. A few ladies helped us get the correct equipment and told Elizabeth which heavier weights she should start with. One of the ladies looked at my arms, up at my face and said, “You’d better stick with the lightest weights.” Thank you, Brenda! What a confidence booster! She wasn’t wrong, but nobody likes to be told their arms are too flabby to do much. The weight on both ends of my bar equaled a grand total of 5.5lbs. Try not to be too impressed. After 45 minutes, I had done more squats and half pushups than in the entirety of my life up to that point. My legs were jello and my arms weren’t much better. I couldn’t pick up my water bottle without shaking. For one exercise we had to go from laying on the bench to standing up and back to laying down while staying as straight as possible. I got stuck while trying to stand up and my legs were waving in the air like a turtle stuck on it’s back. Just call me Grace.
* For the last two years I attended a Bible study on and off. The leader disbanded the group this year and sent us all letters thanking us for being in the group. She said a few nice things about me then wrote, “…seeing glimpses of your occasional wit.” OCCASIONAL wit? Frankly, I’m slightly offended. It’s evident she hasn’t read my Pulitzer winning, rarely updated, broken record blog chronicling potty training and trips to Walgreens.
* In the latest installment of Sarah’s Rocky Relationship with Superhero Movies, we’re watching the 558th Marvel DC Comics Star Trek Ghost Busters Avengers movie.
Me: What’s happening? What’s he doing?
Christopher: They predicted this would happen in the fifth movie.
Me: When did that come out?
Christopher: 2012.
Me: How am I supposed to remember what happened in a movie seven years ago? Who’s that weird person? Why haven’t we seen her before?
Christopher: We saw her in the Dr. Strange movie.
Me: I never saw that one.
Christopher: Yes you did.
Me: Why is Black Widow showing up again!? I still don’t understand why she’s in these movies.
Christopher: She’s not a bad character so you don’t have to dislike her so much.
Me: It’s just a movie so it doesn’t really matter. I don’t really care what happens. Well for Pete’s sake, why are they doing that? It would be a lot easier if they dealt with that guy two hours ago when they had the chance!
Christopher: They’re going back in time to resurrect the stone.
Me: How do you know?
Christopher: Contextual clues and they hinted at this in the last Avengers movie.
Me: I didn’t see any contextual clues. Why can’t they put subtitles explaining what’s happening? Disney has enough money for that.
Christopher: Disney doesn’t make these movies. Did you read the link I sent you explaining all the storylines and characters?
It’s always relaxing watching these movies.
I hope if I stick to the strength class I’ll be able to give Thor a run for his money. Here’s hoping that hammer doesn’t weigh more than 5.5lbs.
Jun 6, 2019 | Uncategorized, What's going on |
As of the 28th of May, I am officially old. The big 3-0. Feel send me all manner of walkers, canes, orthopedic shoes and hard candies. I’ll be at Walgreens buying a large pillbox for all my medications.
Christopher says 30 isn’t old, but it’s easy to talk that way when you’re not the one with long gray hairs and a rapidly lengthening anti-wrinkle skin care routine.
Our camping trip was partly for my birthday so we were very low-key on the actual day. I had to dispose of a dead mouse in the mouse trap immediately upon waking followed by being sneezed on by Linus. What a lovely start to the day! After AB’s swimming lesson, I went to the flower shop to buy myself birthday flowers. I should have said I wanted to order a bouquet and moved on with life, but I added unnecessary details about them being a birthday gift to myself and I don’t want lilies and I was going to go to the other flower shop but decided on them because their building was on the same side of the street that I was already on, blahblahblah. She asked if I wanted to include a card but I said no. Again, I was sending them to myself so I was expecting them.
I feel very wise now that I’ve entered a new decade. I shared quite a bit of knowledge with Andrew, Elizabeth, and Christopher. Some are more receptive than others, but I press on. I’m sharing so many pearls of wisdom they’re about to make a full pearl necklace.
Annabelle was in charge of decorating the cake because she knows where the candles are and Christopher doesn’t. She asked how many candles I wanted and said 30 might be too many. I agree. I’d need an oxygen tank to blow out all those candles.
I feel like I had more birthday things to document but I don’t remember what they were. It was 10 days ago but feels like 70 years.
Speaking of time, it’s flying but simultaneously creeeeeping by. Annabelle was only been out of school for two years. I legitimately thought it was a month ago. In those two weeks, I’ve had a birthday, gone camping, done art camp and VBS, put an offer on a house, embarrassed myself in public multiple times, racked up $18.50 in library fines because I got the return date wrong, crawled through the spider-infested woods next to the house several times to catch Linus after he escaped, caught three mice in mouse traps and made the kitchen spotless for a few minutes. That was worth recording.
I didn’t plan on volunteering at VBS but as these things always go, I got sucked in because I can’t say no. My plan was to bring AB to VBS at our old church 7 minutes away and spend time at home painting my nails/cross stitching/napping while she was learning about God. Instead, we’re at a VBS half an hour away and I’ve stayed every night to help watch the babies. My friend said she needed help “for one night” in the nursery. She promised me 5 tiny babies under the age of one. That was false advertising. There are no tiny babies. We have three little girls between the ages of 16-21 months. They are very cute and I’d like to bring Cordelia home with me, but it’s been 20 hours of free childcare in 5 evenings. I am, to use our family word for tired, Snooped Dogged. My friend suggested we do foot and handprint art with them and asked if I was good at painting. What I should have said was no. What I did say was I’ve been doing footprint art since Sesame was one month old so no problemo. I’ll do it all. No worries. The moms will love them. I’ve never done it before, but surely I can turn a footprint into a parrot. How hard can it be?
Evidently very hard.
I have never been more dissatisfied with how artwork has turned out. We started them on Tuesday night and I could not for the life of me make them look good. I kept adding paint in hopes they would improve, but they didn’t. The angle of the footprint was off. I couldn’t blend the colors well. I didn’t want any parent to see them. I was annoyed with myself all night. When I saw them again on Wednesday night I will say they looked slightly better than I remembered. Still NOT great, but time healed my injured artist heart slightly.
I went to Joanns yesterday for new canvases. I was determined to redo the art, even though none of the kids liked paint on their feet. Sometimes making art is painful, kids! We made footprint bunnies which turned out a million times better. While Annabelle was learning about John the Baptist, I was in the nursery learning to not boast about my paintbrush skilz.
Apr 26, 2019 | Uncategorized, What's going on |
Update 1- My life of high crime is quickly escalating. When we were at Jimmy Carter’s boyhood home last weekend, I picked a few weeds and made a little bouquet. Christopher showed us how to get nectar from a honeysuckle plant. It was all very innocent until Kevin the tour guide rode over in his motorized scooter to say picking flowers on national historic sites is a federal violation. I dropped my bouquet behind my back so he wouldn’t see how much I picked and fine me per weed.
This morning I went to Fred’s Super Dollar store to return an air pump. As an aside, Fred’s Super Dollar is not an accurate name. If I see “dollar store” on a sign I expect everything in the store to be a dollar. Don’t be throwing “dollar store” around when you’re selling a pack of socks for $7.50. That’s false advertising and technically every store is a dollar store. I told the cashier the pump wasn’t inflating our new pool and gave her the receipt. I didn’t know the receipt was from a different trip to the fake dollar store and didn’t have the pump on it. She said I could return it without the receipt for store credit. She kept trying to beep the box but the register wasn’t accepting it. Low and behold I was trying to return the air pump I got at Walmart and not the one from Fred’s. She gave me a look that said she was on to me with my wrong receipt and product from a different store. I slunk out like someone tangled up in a money laundering deal gone awry.
Update 2- The mouse situation. Last week Rick the exterminator came by to spray the house for cockroaches. His boss, Don, came by on Wednesday to inspect the house. I told him about the mouse in my bed and he said, “Oh, it was probably a little ol’ field mouse. They’re smaller than regular mice and you’ll see them all around. It wasn’t a regular mouse.” I DON’T CARE WHAT TYPE OF MOUSE IT WAS. Just give me all the traps and get them out of my house. I asked if he has a spray for frogs. I’ve been asking that same question for 15 months now and never gotten a good answer but I’ll keep trying. He said, “Little tree frogs don’t do any damage. They’re really great ’cause they keep the bugs away.” They don’t do that great a job since we had to hire Don to get the bugs out.
I have made it a goal to create a frog repellent before we leave the state of Georgia. It will be the legacy I leave behind. If doctors can perform face transplants I don’t understand why no one can keep frogs out of my house.
Update 3- Apparently I’ve become invested in superhero movies. I didn’t think I was a superhero person. I watched Spider Man growing up but never cared about the Hulk or Batman or anyone else. Since getting married I’ve seen several superhero movies. I’ve rolled my eyes through many a scene and explanation of Marvel vs. DC Comics blahblahblah. I don’t understand their different worlds or languages and the need for 20 minute long scenes of a city being destroyed. It happens in every movie and I think it’s time they simmer down with the throwing of cars.
However.
Along the way, I’ve become a fan of Captain America. (I also enjoy Thor but he makes me feel bad about my hair.) Christopher got me a Captain America shirt and I really like it, but every time I wear it I feel like I’m two steps away from buying tickets to ComicCon. Annabelle had a matching shirt and it made me so happy.
I wore it to the doctor when AB had her one-year appointment and the male nurse looked at it and said, “That’s the best superhero right there.” I replied, “Thank you.” THANK YOU? What kind of answer was that? Did I think I was the creator of Captain America?
I blame it on my new white hairs and sanity going out the window, but I now have lots of opinions on several superheroes. I gave a lengthy speech of Dad and Christopher about my dislike of Black Widow and how I think she doesn’t deserve to be in a superhero movie. As far as I’m concerned, the only things super about her is she’s super annoying. The new Avengers movie is coming out and I heard a rumor that one of the characters dies. I’m very concerned it might be Captain America or Thor. I’ve barely recovered from Matthew dying in Downton Abbey and I might not be able to handle another death of a fictitious character.
If someone creates Frog Slayer, you can bet your bottom dollar I’ll be his biggest fan.
Apr 14, 2019 | Uncategorized, What's going on |
When we last spoke, I was patting myself on the back for having nary a blemish upon my criminal records.
Pride goeth before a fall because the very next day I accidentally stole a bottle of rosehip oil from TJMaxx.
I had looked at multiple bottles and couldn’t find the particular one I had decided on. After buying things I didn’t need, I got into the car, reached into my purse for gum and saw the bottle of oil I had been looking for. I wasn’t going to drive away with it, but I wasn’t sure how to sneak back in the store without looking suspicious. It was one of the few times I’ve wished I had Annabelle with me during a leisurely shopping trip because it would have been easier to say she carried out. Yes, I wanted to blame my child! It would have been so much easier than the current situation I found myself in which was I had put the bottle in my open purse instead of the cart. I’ve been shopping on my own for decades but suddenly I don’t know the proper place for unbought items? Who would buy that story? I slunk in like the criminal I was and pretended to be looking for my keys while I stuck the bottle back on the shelf. I’m sure it was all caught on security camera and it will follow me around for the rest of my life along with my spot on the Walmart watch list.
Yesterday morning we went to a Native American festival/powwow. We went with our friends and she suggested we go Friday while the school kids were in school. What we failed to consider was the school kids being in school meant the school kids would be at the same park, going to the same powwow as us. We didn’t realize this until it took us 30 minutes to get through the front gate when it normally takes 4 minutes.
I hadn’t been to an indian festival in several years and learned quite a bit. I learned that, according to one man knowledgable on the topic, the terms indian and native American can be used interchangeably without offending the people of that culture. Annabelle enjoyed seeing how the indians made something useful from each part of the animal they had hunted. Every time someone walked by dressed in traditional garb, she’d grab my hand and loudly say, “THOSE INDIANS ARE SO SCARY.” That’s not the kind of thing you want to be broadcasted when more than half the people there were indians.
The ballet recital season is really ramping up. We have extra rehearsals and are constantly being asked to spend money on photos, ads, etc. Today was the first day to buy tickets. Ticket sales started at 9:45 and when we showed up for the 10:05 rehearsal, parents had already been in line for more than 30 minutes. A lady walked around, assigning numbers for purchasing tickets. Everyone was comparing numbers to see would get their tickets soonest. Some people waited over an hour for tickets to a kids recital. You would have thought it was Black Friday. The seasoned moms studied the seating chart like it was a textbook. All us new moms looked at each other and said it was ridiculous. At this point, we’re more invested in keeping our girls from getting runs in their tights than getting seats A1-12. It’s not a big theater and no matter where you sit you can see the stage. I want a good seat but not at the expense of being trampled by over-dedicated dance moms.
I’m pleased to report that I paid good American cash money for the tickets. None were accidentally stolen.
