Up and Down and Up and Down, but at Least It's All Petty Stuff

I first placed it in my Amazon shopping cart a little over a year ago. Every time I had a some extra money, a gift or whatever, I earmarked it as "Lens Money." Nickels and dimes and pennies slowly added up, but then life got in the way and some of those nickels and dimes and pennies fell through my fingers and into the laps of those fortunate enough to profit from our unexpected expenses. One step forward. Two steps back. Little-by-little, I inched my way towards my goal of being able to pay for that lens, but really kept getting nowhere fast.

I was still a long ways from getting there when Mr. Husband up and bought it for me last week. Just like that. Apparently, if I whine about something long enough, he will make it magically all better for me.

Behold . . . George! (Yes, I named my new lens. What of it?)

Isn't he amazing? YES, YES HE IS.

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Riding high on thoughts of the new hunk of plastic and glass that would be greeting me when I got home later that evening, I cruised down the road with the sunroof open and the music turned up a little louder than necessary. The old beat-up sedan in front of me slowly navigated the curves of the road, but I was too happy to care that the car was barely crawling along. When I heard a little *popping* sound, I thought to myself that the owner of the junk-mobile blocking my path should probably go get their car looked at.

And then I realized I no longer had power steering. Just as that wonderful nugget of knowledge made its way to my brain, the power failure light on my dashboard lit up.

FANTASTIC.

Somehow I managed to get my car into a parking lot, but not before realizing that for as much as I hate my car, it obviously hates me more.

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As I opened the small white envelope, I smiled. While I knew we were about to have to spend entirely too much money getting my car towed to the dealership so that the serpentine belt could get replaced, the contents of the envelope were sure to at least somewhat offset the stroke of bad luck. Money you weren't expecting is ALWAYS a good thing, no matter the amount. And really, the little bit of unexpected money that found its way into my hands was most definitely a Very Good Thing.

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I travel the road at least four times every single day. Nearly half the time, a police officer sits tucked back behind some bushes on the side of the road, diligently waiting for law breakers to pass him by. I know he's there. He's ALWAYS there. I. do. not. speed. on. that. road.

And yet, as I passed the very well-known speed trap, the lights on top of the police officer's car jumped to life.

As the officer wrote me that blasted speeding ticket, all I could think of is that it HAD to have happened because I wasn't driving my car. I so very rarely drive Mr. Husband's SUV that I truly don't know the vehicle like I know mine. The speed trap sits at the bottom of a very steep hill, so I suspect that Mr. Husband's SUV must pick up more speed while coasting downhill than my car does. I certainly didn't feel like I was travelling 15mph over the posted speed limit.

So much for that extra money.

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I don't like roller coasters, metaphorically or literally. So how about somebody lets me off?

Make Room for Crazy

Every day, someone throws common sense to the wind and declares that This! Is! The! Year! This year the Pirates won't suck so bad! This year the Pirates will play .500 ball! This year the Pirates will make the playoffs! This year the Pirates will win the World Series!

I had a really hard time typing those sentences. I was laughing way too hard. I mean, this optimism, it has to be a joke, right? RIGHT?

Apparently, Ginny (my blogging hero from That's Church) isn't joking when she says that she really believes that this is the year. She has grabbed hold of the reins on that bandwagon and is riding that sucker around in circles, hooting and hollering and gathering up free bobbleheads. I offered her a lighter and some gas so she could set the whole thing on fire, but she declined.

A quick look at some Pittsburgh tweets shows that she's not alone. There are actually other people riding around on that broken down jalopy of a bandwagon. But, I'm also not alone in my thinking that NO WAY are the Pirates going to turn it around this year. I firmly believe the team ownership has found a way to keep the cash rolling in, and it's for them to spend money on t-shirts and bobbleheads. They don't need to win, they just need to hand out free stuff as a bunch of giant pierogies race around town. Sure, eventually they'll manage to stumble their way to a winning season, but it ain't happening this year.

I'm willing to put money on it. The Pirates will not have a winning season this year. Period.

Are you willing to put money on it? Do you think this is the year? (If so, you're nuts. ;-) ) Or, are you with me in thinking that optimistic napkin holders are just a ruse designed to distract us from the fact that they still have crap pitching?

Here's the deal: Ginny and I have joined forces and are asking you to put your money where your mouth is. All it takes is $5. Declare your loyalty, donate $5, and in the end, the kids will be winners, no matter what the Succos do. There might even be a little something-something in it for you. The details:

• Voice your opinion by clicking on the appropriate button below. You'll be taken to a PayPal page where you can donate $5. Feel free to declare your loyalty over and over and make as many donations as you want, but don't let us catch you changing sides. WE WILL KNOW.
• If the Succos continue to suck this year, 75% of what is donated will go to Christmas Crazy for Kids. If This is the Year! the Pirates turn it around, then that 75% goes to Make Room for Kids. That is to say, 75% will go to the "winning" charity and the other charity will get 25%. There are no losers in this little game. (Unless you count the Pirates. Ahem.)
• If you correctly predict the Pirates season outcome, you will be eligible to win prizes such as gift cards and some other fun stuff which will be announced later. The winner will be selected in a random drawing from all donations made on the "winning" side, so make sure your your email address is correct on the PayPal screen.

This! Is! NOT! The! Year!

* Insanely cool artwork by the über-talented and very hawt Rachel Sager.

This is Probably How Bernie Madoff Started

The kid has turned to a life of crime.

Once upon a time, you would never catch Alexis doing something she had been told not to do; her conscious wouldn't let her. However, it seems she has shoved her little conscious into a box and found a way to break free from the chains of guilt.

She is smuggling fruit snacks to the other kids at daycare.

It started out as an open request to perform an act of what could be considered kindness. "I want to bring fruit snacks to school for my friends." I told her that I appreciated that she wanted to be nice to her friends, but that it wasn't a good idea to give food to kids without asking their parents first.

Despite my request that she leave the fruit snacks at home, she grabbed a pack out of the pantry. I found the contraband packet of sugar and artificial colors clutched in her chubby hands when I went to get her out of the car at school. I asked her to leave them in the car. She wouldn't. It turns out that standing in the parking lot at daycare at 7:30am is the exact situation in which I don't have the patience or energy to fight with a 40-pound mound of determination and stubbornness. Instead, I drug the kid to the coat area in her classroom and insisted that she stick the fruit snacks in her coat pocket RIGHT THAT SECOND OR ELSE. AND LEAVE THEM THERE.

She kinda listened. She put them in her pocket. But, when I picked her up at the end of the day, the fruit snacks were gone. She had smuggled them out of her coat and into the hands of her first customer.

The next day, she tried to head off a disagreement by smuggling a pack of fruit snacks into her coat pocket while I was putting on my shoes. I told her I knew about them, to which she earnestly declared that she HAD to give them to a different friend. SHE HAD TO. I stole the fruit snacks out of her coat before we left. Yet, somehow, she managed to smuggle another pack past me. I only found out because when I picked her up later in the day, she confessed her sins.

People, she managed to go through an entire box of fruit snacks over the course of the week. I'm not sure what the other kids are paying her with, but the kid is apparently running some sort of elaborate fruit snack ring. And don't even get me started on how she's pulling off this caper without teachers catching wind of it. That's a whole other level of baffling and frustrating.

All I know is that I have instituted a ban on any and all fruit snacks. Period.

Of course, Alexis keeps telling me that she'll find some by herself. Apparently, she has secured other sources. UGH.