Steemit Exclusive: The Dangers of Getting Dressed in the Dark…..

Growing up in the midwest, there is a certain time of year, namely winter, where you get up before the sun and have to leave for work or school before the sun is up. When I was in high school, I had to ride to school with my mom who was a teacher at the high school I attended. This meant that there were plenty of days that I’d have to get dressed in the dark.

Fortunately, I was still able to look as presentable as you’d imagine for someone who went to high school in the late 90’s, knee-deep in the grunge style scene.

There was one slight drawback for getting dressed in the dark. And I never figured it out till it was almost too late.

I suppose it was my own fault. See, I had a habit of wearing the same pair of jeans more than once in a week. Normally, I’d wear the same pair on consecutive days. But back then I also had a bad habit of not shaking out my pants before putting them back on.

I blamed this on how early I had to wake in the morning.

It wasn’t until I was already at school, waiting for class to start, when all my friends were around, that I would make a grim discovery. I’d find a strange bulge in my lower pant leg. Now, because of my leg brace, I didn’t feel anything weird, it was only when I went to pull my legs to my chest when I was sitting down that I’d feel the strange bulge.

But what was it?

In a word, it was, um…….underwear. Dirty underwear to be exact.

Yeah, turns out I hadn’t shaken out my underwear from my jeans from the day before and they were now stuck in my pant leg.

At school.

In front of my friends.

Ladies and gentlemen, this would be the alternative dream to the one where you arrive at school naked.

So how did I retain my dignity and not let slip (pun intended) my mistake in getting dressed that morning? By a slow and sneaky sleight of hand maneuver. I’d put my hand over the bulge in my leg and begin rubbing it up and down like I had an itch….slowly working the offending garment down my pant leg and out through the leg hole. I’d scrunch it into a tight ball in my fist and hold it tight while I made a sort of “walk of shame” to my mom’s classroom where I’d hand it off to here and she’d put it in her desk. The thought never occurred to me to put it in my locker. I guess I figured it’d be more likely to fall out when I opened my locker and then I’d really give everyone something to talk about.

In a school of no less than 200 students, a tale of runaway underwear would have spread as fast as the tickets sell out for a Taylor Swift concert.

Now you’d think that perhaps this only had to happen once for me to remember to shake out my jeans when I took them off.

You’d be wrong.

Even 20 years later I can remember this happening no less than 3 times.

So why did I include this story? Well, you see, I got dressed in the dark this morning and am now writing this entry in an isolated corner of the grocery store.

With a balled up pair of dirty underwear in my fist.

Some people never learn. 

Cheers! 

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Storytime: Abducted by Customer Service……..

*Blogger’s note: I have masked the location of this incident and am not using real names because I truly believe this person meant no harm whatsoever and I want to use this story as more of an educational tool to teach others what not to do. 

Also, while this post contains heavy doses of sarcasm, that has more to do with how I cope with these situations and less to do with the actual person.

As of this upload, the museum in question has reached out and offered a formal apology. 


This weekend Chad and I went on a mini get-a-way. As part of our weekend, we toured a vintage 1950’s style home that has been turned into a museum. Although I was using my wheelchair, I was able to tour it because they had put on a ramp at the back of the house to accommodate wheelchairs.

After we toured the home, we began to make our way across the street and up the block to go to the next gathering of this event. All of a sudden this woman, wearing a museum badge, approached us. She was very excited to greet us and told us that they had just put the ramp in last year and she was SO glad we were there to tour the museum.

And I’m pretty sure I was the first person in a wheelchair to come through the museum. 

Why? Keep reading…….

She introduced herself as one of the curators of the museum and then the conversation took a turn-Her: “I used to work in healthcare. What is your diagnosis?” Me: (Slightly flustered as people ask me all the time what is my disability, but her way of asking was a bit more unique.) “Spina Bifida,” I said.

“Oh wow!” she said. And then it happened.

My husband had been pushing my wheelchair this whole time as we were walking to the next event of the weekend. And suddenly, without asking, the curator GRABBED MY WHEELCHAIR from my husband and started PUSHING ME!!

Now, Chad and I were so shocked we didn’t say anything, and I know that probably wasn’t the best course of action, but here’s the thing: when you’ve been disabled all your life, stuff like this (normally not exactly like this) happens frequently and honestly you just have to pick your battles or you’d end up in an early grave, a victim of repeated 2nd hand social awkwardness.

So we let it go, for about half a block until Chad casually told the lady that he could take over pushing me. Her reply?

“Oh don’t worry, I used to work in healthcare, I know what I’m doing!” 

Um……

Listen, Linda!Can I call you Linda? Cool. Here are a few tips to keep in mind the next time someone in a wheelchair comes through the museum: 

1. When you see a person in a wheelchair, you may approach but DO. NOT. TOUCH. The wheelchair is an extension of the person’s body and is therefore off-limits unless the person specifically asks for help. 

2. Throughout our entire interaction, you mentioned several times that you used to work in health care. I’m just not sure how relevant that information was to the situation. Especially since when we came to a curb cut and you took me down backwards, I almost fell out of my chair. 

Yeah. That was a fun experience.

When you have a situation like this, ask the person in the chair which direction they prefer to come down. 

Also, after this incident we could only assume that when you said you worked in healthcare, you meant to say front desk or billing department of the hospital. 

3. Honestly I would have still told you what my disability was even if you didn’t tell me you used to work in health care. I know others in the disabled community have a different opinion to sharing their diagnosis, but for me, I’ve always had the opinion that others will never learn if they don’t ask. I know this can be confusing, so a good way to ask is this, “Would you mind if I asked you your diagnosis?” 

4. Your museum is awesome and we thoroughly enjoyed our tour. I promise you if you implement the suggestions above, it will be an enjoyable experience for all attendees. 

Cheers! 

LAFF: Mowed Over…….

It’s been a rough week. I want to address what’s in the news lately, but today, I thought we should have a little diversion with a funny story about one of our first world problems. I hope this makes you smile. 


It’s that time again. With the warmer weather, it’s time to make sure your yard is mowed regularly and well-groomed.

Y’all, Chad and I have had the worst time getting someone to mow our grass and clip the hedges. We hired someone two years ago, but they quit last year. Because Chad has allergies and our yard is too small for a riding lawn mower (so I can’t do it), we realized quickly that our only option was to use a lawn service. So I started asking around and someone (who shall remain nameless because I don’t blame them one bit) contacted me with the name of a local, family-owned lawn care business.

Sound promising? Read on……

Now, in the beginning, I was pretty impressed. They answered my inquiry quickly and were able to accommodate our hectic schedule by agreeing to do the work on a day where other businesses were normally closed. On the first day they mowed, I told them that of course the grass needed to be mowed and the large weeds in the front and side of the house needed to be removed. Including that weed on the side of our house by our porch. I specifically remember telling them to remove the porch weed.

Remember that one? Yeah, the one that was so large we used it as a Christmas tree (from December to April as it turns out, but that’s neither here nor there). Honestly, it’s gotten SO much bigger since December that you hardly have to open the door the entire way to see it in its full glory. And yes I have tried plucking it out with my dainty hands and Goliath strength, but it’s passed the point at which tools wouldn’t be necessary.

We agree on a reasonable payment and the guy shows up to do the work. Now, this is where I made the mistake. After the first mowing session ended, I noticed the porch weed was still firmly cemented in the side yard. The guy told me that he’d get to it next time, he just didn’t have his lopper with him (I don’t know why this word sounds like a euphemism for something else. But there it is).

This was my mistake. I should have told him we couldn’t pay him till the job was done, but as this was our first go around, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

I should have reread that first sentence in the above paragraph. Even when he was mowing the grass last week, I could have sworn I heard a weed eater whirring in the background.

So it was to my great surprise and annoyance that I saw the porch weed sitting, untouched, hugging the cool concrete when I opened the door after he had finished. He had knocked on the door so he could say he was finished and I could pay him. But the instant I saw the weed, I looked at him, nodded and gazed toward the weed and pointed. He said, “What?” as I kept eye contact and kept my finger pointed firmly toward the weed.

His eye follows my finger to the weed, he gasped, throws up his hands and says, “$#@%&#!, I forgot my lopper again! Text me and remind me for next time!”

“WHAAATT??!!”

So, um, I guess it’s on me that I thought just verbally telling you what needed to be done would be enough to actually DO what I’m paying you to do.

My bad.

So because you forgot to bring your loppers (Ok, is this a real thing or a tool from Who-ville?), I forgot how to do the math and am only paying you for mowing.

Also, here is a handy-dandy little reminder for next time:

 

 

 

Good luck!! 

PS: Since this writing, the yard guy has been fired and our palatial acreage is on the hunt-for the 1,268th time-for an expert yard guy/girl/person. 

It may be about time to invest in a goat. 😛 

 

**KA-POW!**

The following story was originally going to be included in my upcoming book, but I’m not sure where it would fit, so I thought I’d share it here.

Glasses. They are not something that all kids want. Especially a kid like me who constantly sat on them where they had to be replaced. With my allowance (Maybe. That part is a bit fuzzy 😉 ).

But on this particular night, I was SO thankful that the Lord gave me crappy eyesight in need of glasses.

The year was sometime between 2007 and 2010. I was living in a small apartment in Louisville KY. When I say small, I mean small. My stove and oven unit was the size of a postage stamp. Ok, that was a slight exaggeration, but not too far off.

Anyway, my kitchen counter/sink/stove area was so small I only had one sink to wash and rinse dishes, which didn’t leave much room when dishes piled up……

And washing dishes is not my favorite activity, so they tend to pile up.

The only way I was able to do dishes when I let them pile up, was to put the extra dirty dishes on the stove as I washed them by hand.

One night I needed to use the stove top, so I moved some dishes to the back burner and turned on the front burner to boil water.

Except that the burner I turned on was in the back and under a pile of dishes. I realized this after smelling something weird and realizing what I had done. Without thinking, I began to furiously take each plate off the pile and put it in the sink.

With each plate taken off the burner, the next plate grew progressively hotter, so I started grabbing them at fast as I could.

Big mistake. Big, HUGE mistake.

As I grabbed the last plate to put it in the sink it SHATTERED into my hand, into my face (narrowly missing my eyeballs–Thanks horrible eyesight for shielding my eyes from flying glass with thick a** glasses (Also, thank you dad for my eyesight 😉 ) and all over my kitchen floor. (Seriously, I was picking up glass shards in my kitchen for DAYS after “the incident.”)

So kids, if you fail that eye exam and are forced to get glasses, be grateful.

For you will be able to be reckless with plates. Apparently.

Go you!  😀

When You Need an Umbrella And an Ark…….#Bloggertunities

**Blogger’s Note: Because of the busyness of life at the moment, this post took about a week to put together. Please note that the cab AC is now working and my teeth don’t hurt as bad.


Have you ever hear the expression, “When it rains, it pours”? The basic meaning behind this is that when something bad happens in your life, there is more behind it that rains down on you before the clouds finally break and a glorious rainbow emerges.

We are in the middle of the pouring stage and I kinda want to give whomever thought of this catchphrase a piece of my mind….or a well planted kick in the teeth (or an attempted kick. I just turned 37 and my legs don’t have as much range of motion as they did in my 20s 😛 ).

Let me rewind a few years. Yes, years. Don’t worry, I’ll give you the short version 😉 . So a couple years ago our water heater seemed to be close to death. It was leaking and Chad and I began trying to figure out how we were going to pay for another one. Then a few days later, the leaking mysteriously stopped. Feeling like we just got a little bit of relief, we put replacing the water heater on the back burner and focused on other things that needed to be replaced.

This is also something you do quite often as an adult. Delegating crisis severity.

Anyway, our hands-off approach seemed to work for our water heater until the other weekend when water began to leak more freely into the basement. We knew something had to be done. Like that day.

So we enlisted the help of a few amazing friends and set about replacing the water heater. Realizing this was going to be a big purchase, Chad drove our car and our friend drove his truck to pick up our new water heater with the goal of putting the water heater into the truck to bring it back to our house.

And what happened next can only be blamed on Murphy’s Law, and the fact that it’s us.

On the way out from the parking lot in our car, the serpentine belt FELL OUT from underneath our car.

Like, fell out onto the parking lot.

I don’t know much about cars, but apparently the serpentine belt is pretty critical piece of equipment for the operation of the car.

So if you are keeping track, our water heater bit the dust on the SAME DAY our car’s guts literally spilled out onto the parking lot.

*KERSPLAT!!*

Thankfully we were able to replace the water heater without going into debt and have it installed on the same day. Also, having a car die wasn’t a huge deal because we have a back up company car that Chad is allowed to use when he’s not at work.

Can you tell where this is going? Yep.

I’m not exactly sure why the cab stopped running a few days after crisis #’s 1 and 2. According to Chad, something overheated and apparently that’s a bad thing.

So without a car we had to scramble to get a few needed errands done this week. And part of that scramble included walking home from an appointment. I gotta admit this wasn’t too too bad because it was only a couple of blocks and it was a beautiful day.

Pretty romantic jaunt if I do say so myself. A much needed reprieve from the stress of our recent crisis’.

Then as I write this Chad is home from work because the company car’s AC is out. And I’m sitting here typing this while my back right wisdom tooth is just throbbin’ away.

Yeah, it’s been a long couple weeks!  😀

Since blogging almost 2 years, I’ve begun to see life differently. Now when crisis hit or weird things in my life happen, I ask myself,”Would this make a good blog??” For example:

1. Did your water heater die and car bite the dust on the SAME DAY? Blog it!

2. Did you leave a cup of coffee in the dead car for three days? Drink it and blog the results! (After googling the effects of three day old coffee on the body 😉 )

3. Has your stubborn cat refused to take her pill and you are about to pull your hair out? Send her to her aunt’s house with pill instructions and go on vacation! (OK, some situations don’t merit a good blog 😛 )

It’s like I’ve begun to say recently, “It’s not a crisis, it’s a bloggertunity!”

Chad recently ran with this concept and on my birthday presented me with new internet domains with “bloggertunity” in the address. I don’t know what we’ll do with these, but I’m kicking around a couple of ideas I’ll share later.

So dear reader, if you are having trials in your life, don’t think of them as crisis….they are just bloggertunities!! So just start writing and keep watch for the rainbow to burst through the clouds.

I’m rooting for you. Remember you are never alone. 😉

Cheers!

 

 

Clever Life Hacks That You Shouldn’t Try….

I just learned something new. While it may be fun and a much needed break to go off on a quick vacation in the middle of the week, there are drawbacks. The biggest one is the constant forgetfulness of what day of the week it is upon coming home.

At least half a dozen times today I thought it was Sunday. Seriously. I think I need a vacation to recover from my vacation. 😀

While on vacation though, I thought of this blog. And I have a question for all my readers:

So, let’s say you and your spouse went to a Weird Al Yankovic concert and during said concert, Weird Al performed the grammar appreciation song Word Crimes. During the song you actually learned a few tips that will make you a better writer and blogger. And because you are in the process of getting your blog to generate moolah, you wonder,

“Hmmmm….maybe I could write this concert off as a business expense.”

Eh, maybe that’s not the best idea. 😛

Beyond Tupperware…..Give Your Best Challenge…

The other day I was helping Chad get ready for work by packing his lunch. Occasionally he’ll pack up leftover pizza to eat later when work isn’t so busy. We’ve gotten into a habit of putting it in a deep Tupperware container that has a fancy lid that snaps into place on all sides (it’s square). It’s our fanciest piece of Tupperware and definitely a favorite. When it wasn’t in its usual spot or the three back up locations, the following conversation took place:

Me: “Honey, have you seen the good Tupperware that we keep your pizza for work?”

Chad: “Nope. Did we lend it out to somebody?”

Me: “I don’t think so. We aren’t that stupid.”

I immediately felt convicted.

Did I just seriously say that I’d not lend out or donate anything we have if it’s considered by me to be “the best one” or a “favorite”?

I thought about this further. In much of our 1st world culture, we hear things like, “donate your gently used (fill in the blank)” to whatever charity. Or when we hear of a community need, we look through our closet for things we don’t wear anymore, doesn’t matter if it is in good condition or especially stylish. And we walk away knowing that we’ve done a good deed.

But I have a challenge for all of us, including myself.

What if the next time someone asks to borrow something or a donation call is given, instead of looking for items that will “make do” why don’t we go out of our way to give our “favorite” or “best”? What would it be like if we gave without worrying about the value of the item? And focus more on the needs of others in the community.

So if you ever want borrow our best piece of Tupperware, you are more than welcome.

Assuming I can ever find it. 😉

Cheers!