Leaving Blogger

I've discovered I hate Blogger. It's not as user-friendly as Word-press.

All my previous posts have been imported to

www.itscharacterbuilding.wordpress.com

Come on over and pay me a visit.

The Soundtrack for my Life... Well at Least Right Now Anyway.

I love music. This is not a revelation to many of you, as I'm always looking for, discovering, and listening to new music. One of my favorite assignments in class was to take song lyrics, decipher them and describe how I could relate to it. Even now, I could waste hours devouring song lyrics and apply not only the lyrics but the intrinsic melodies of each song. As I reflect back on my life I can attribute many memories with songs.

I was with friends last night. And as always, when we're having a laid back evening sitting on the patio drinking some beer... we start busting out our "Top 10" lists on various topics ranging from food, music. attributes, etc. Then songs became the topic. Listing 10 songs I most identify with over a course of a lifetime is an exercise in futility. There's just too many. Here, however, is the music that is currently dominating my play list. (And it's still more than 10!!) They are in no particular order.

1. The Garden- Mirah
2. Your Guardian Angel- Red Jump Suit Apparatus
3. Podigal- One Repubic
4. Many Shades of Black- The Raconteurs
5. Dreamer- Tony Childs
6. Innuendo- Queen
7. I'm Yours- Jason Mraz
8. Running up that Hill- Placebo.
9. Two Step- Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds live at Radio City
10. Sam's Town- The Killers (Live piano version)
11. The Kill- 30 Seconds to Mars
12. Jackie's Strength- Tori Amos
13. Politik- Coldplay
14. Leave the Bourbon on the Shelf- Killers.
15. Hide and Seek- Imogen Heap

A Sketch of my Interview

I had an interview today for a position I have been coveting for the past year. This will be the 2ND time I have interviewed for the position, and I feel my chances are pretty good. Since I have previously posted for this position and know the hiring manager, today's round of questions were more discussion oriented as opposed to those blasted "target questions." In the middle of this dialogue, my hopefully soon-to-be-boss, busted out a pen and paper and started outlining strategy during the various stages of a litigated claims file. Though it looks like chicken scratch, this sketch made me excited about my job again. The challenge, the opportunity, the ability to excel in this endeavor is right where I want to be in my career. I don't know why... I don't even think it's a pay raise?!?!

An added complication is a co-worker and friend of mine also wants this job. Though I have a higher title, we preform the same job, and he and I are similar in many ways.

His quote to me today was, (jokingly) "Erin, if you would just die today, it'd increase my chances greatly of getting this job... that would really help me out..."

Now, I'm all about helping friends out, but this time, I've gotta put myself first... Sorry B. ;-)

How I Spend my Summer

My friends and family frequently ask me about my job. I come out with some of the craziest stories with regard to people and their boats. The attached video is a snapshot of what I try to interview, investigate and determine liability when people and boats go wrong. While funny on a whole, I hate boat season;-)

A Blonde Moment

As many of you know, I recently was a victim of identity theft. It took me several months to resolve, but the experience has been behind me now for a few months.

I have this problem; or weakness as you might say. Purses. I buy them. I love them. It is my one indulgence, and I keep it under tight control most of the time. I usually get the itch every 6 months or so, and I break down. I will not go into the detail on the amount of money I spend, but let's just say, my purses are not purchased at Target.

I got the itch a few days ago. I did some research and after careful consideration, I had one picked out. I waited an extra day to ensure this is what I wanted.

During yesterday's lunch, I headed over to the store, picked up the purse, and proceeded to follow through the process of purchasing said purse. Then this happened....

********CREDIT DECLINED****

"What?!?!?"
"It says 'credit declined'"
"Run it again."
"I'm sorry, it still says 'credit declined.'"
"What do you mean it's declined? I HAVE NO DEBT, a credit score above 780, AND I have an alert on my credit for the NEXT 7 YEARS... If something's jacked up with my credit, I WOULD KNOW!"

The poor lady just gave me a blank stare.

I am embarrassed b/c now I look like a deadbeat who can't afford the purse she's buying and I have too much pride to be THAT PERSON.

"Would you like me to place a call?"
"YES."

She hands me back my card and I stare it it.... It expired on 7/31. My new card has been sitting on my desk for weeks....Dumbass..

I preach to be a fatalist, so I figure this must be God's way of stopping me from giving in to temptation...

Comments Of The Day

"Erin, my toy heart is still here, in the back seat of your car. "
"I know, Mir, would you like it back?"
"No, I want it to stay here with you. My heart will keep you safe when you're driving your car."

Conversation between Mir (age 5) and myself this evening.


"You know, if you don't accept Jesus Christ as your Savior, you will forever be banished to the pits of hell. Aren't you afraid of that?"
"I'll take that up with God later, right now I'm more or less concerned about you blocking the entrance to my home."
"God doesn't like your sense of humor."
"And I suppose He sent you to tell me that..."

(At which point African neighbor who I have not yet met ( I told you there were several) opened his door and with thick accent says, "She very nice MIXED girl. Please leave."

I thanked him and felt there was no need to correct him. As I walked up the stairs he headed out to his Lexus (what happened to the 92 prelude?!?!?) he yelled up at me, "I don't care what you say, you've got some black in you..." and got in his car.

Unless my parents have been hiding something from me.......My brother always said I was adopted ;-)

All Things I Need to Know in Life I Learned From My Mom Part II

I previously noted the wonderful teachings of Mags, but was prompted to write more when another "mother" of mine called me Erwin. (Dar, I had completely forgotten about that name until I saw your comment on Julz's blog...

For my previous post please click here

Here are some additional Magisms:

You only have one reputation; protect it. Mothers and daughters can be friends. Don't confuse "I can't" with "I won't." Make lists, and lists of lists if necessary. Don't LOSE the list. Just because everything appears to be organized and in a tabbed folder doesn't mean you can find it when you need it. There is no such thing as a "safe spot." There is nothing graceful about getting old. Just because a person is a paraplegic doesn't mean you can beat them in table tennis. The "Star Spangled Banner" doesn't begin with "Jose Can you see." Everything looks brighter after a "catnap." Don't let your Waterford crystal sit on a shelf and gather dust- use it even if it's only for a spritzer.

If you fall, don't wait for someone to help you get up... especially if it means waiting until the next day. Be independent, people will not line up to wipe your ass when you're old. There is no limit to a mother's love. "Flip the switch" and commit yourself to whatever it is you're doing. You are your own worst critic. Weisgarber women inherently worry about everything. You can teach an old bag new tricks.

Be humble enough to laugh at yourself when you make mistakes. Allow yourself to lean on your friends when needed.

Remember the day-to-day moments you share with the ones you love; when they're gone, this is what will flood your heart with warmth.

Love ya, Mom. Jose singing and all...

I Have Food Issues

Not only has it been noted on blogs, but it is a constant joke amongst my friends and family.

Naturally since I have food issues, I would be enticed to watch a show called "Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern."

Some foods (or types) I don't enjoy.

1. Meat of any kind if it is served on a bone. Count me out, I won't it unless social protocol requires it. (ie if I'm a guest in your home, I will cringe through it.)

2. Food that "bursts open" in your mouth (grapes, blueberries etc)

3. Seafood of any kind

4. Tomatoes

5. Mushrooms

6. Beans of ANY kind

7. Milk

The list could go on, but I'll stop short and state there is no amount of money I could receive that would persuade me to eat live bugs or worms. I would do it to save my mother's life, but she'd better live a long time afterward.

Spoof

This is my response to comments I received about the necessity of wearing knee high boots in July.

Pass me my flip-flops, please. :-)

BUT I must confess. I actually had to seek help from the culprit of wearing said boots in order to post this youtube video.

I'm Afraid I can be this Stupid

I have a friend who is a wonderful, sarcastic, unassuming guy who is 15 years my senior. One of my favorite discussions with him went as follows:

"Erin, you know, sometimes when you speak you project some of the most insightful and intelligent ideas and I marvel at how brilliant you can be for such a young age... And then at other times, you are completely clueless to things that should be obvious."

I laughed over this, as it is true. I am a recent owner of the Blackberry Curve. When trying to link my personal email w/ my Blackberry, I stumbled typing my password. I know this is not correct to say, but I have 3 passwords that I use, and I've had them each for 10 or more years. Why is it when I was trying to sync my email, I inappropriately capitalized a letter OVER 20 TIMES! After my 5th attempt, I started keeping track. It went even so far as me going to my regular computer and being completely dumbfounded becuase I could access it on my PC.

Oh God, I'm turning into my mother. In all other accounts, that's a good thing... but not here.

I Must Be Missing a Gene

I've had an interesting week. In spite of being under heavy deadlines and stress at work, I managed to squeeze in some personal time with my friends. I firmly believe laughter can be the best therapy, but admittedly, I have left both evenings with 2 different social groups feeling slightly puzzled.

It boils down to me being a single woman; a title I relish. Several times this week when I unabashedly answered, "No, I'm not married, nor am I looking to get married in the near future," I heard, "Don't worry, the Right One will come along," or, "You just haven't found the right person yet."

Here's where I'm just going to open up and sound off....

Under what impression are you insinuating my life will not be enriched nor will I be truly blessed unless I get married? Does it look like I define myself by whether or not a ring adorns the 4th finger on my left hand? Where is it written that the successes, hopes, dreams, and happiness of my life will be determined by the cut, clarity, carat, or color of a diamond?

Don't get me wrong. I'm not anti-marriage/relationship, whatever. In fact, I'm open to the idea... But I refuse to believe if it doesn't happen for me, I'm going sit back and reflect on my time on earth and say, "Boy, my life would have been so much more fulfilling if I'd only gotten married..." And I find it condescending when people try to assure me it will happen... someday. It makes me feel they believe my life to be lacking--which then leads me down the path of feeling judged. I know it's a stretch, and perhaps this is a tender issue for me, but I don't need people to feel sorry for me. I am a happy successful woman who is blessed with wonderful friendships, 742 trump cards, and a family who is ever -present in just about every faction of my life. I know what it is to feel treasured, loved and cherished, and I know how to reciprocate. Enough said.

This brings me to my second night... Perhaps it's ME, who's not cut out for this marriage thing. I sat and listened to 2 of my friends, both of whom are married, talk about their spouses. One was a male and one a female. I understand relationships are all about compromise, but all I heard tonight was insecurity, mistrust and ultimatums... And both profess to be happily married. What was even more ironic is they sought advice from me. I was told that by remaining single, I still have every shred of rationale and logical reasoning which tends to float out the window once vows are exchanged. I laughed and dispensed the best advice I knew... COMMUNICATE... to which I received blank stares. This is inconceivable to me. I mean, you have selected this person to be your LIFE PARTNER, your sole mate... what do you mean you can't communicate? I'm sure this is inexperience here, but I thought the whole point of marriage was to have someone walk with you during your journey through life... A partner, or teammate to share in the experience. If communication fails, so does everything else, right?

My head began to hurt. I don't know if it was the several glasses of wine or the heap of contradictions being tossed on my plate. I left, thankful to be going home alone and comforted in knowing I only have to be accountable to and for myself.

And You Thought WV Was Bad...

As Noted from Central Ohio's "Alternative" News Source..

A Little Jab at the Red Sox

I have a coworker who is obsessed with the Boston Red Sox. I don't know if it's just my nature, but when I come across people who are completely steadfast and unyielding in their opinions, I attempt to find kinks in their resolve. Perhaps this is due to the fact there is very little in my life that I'm not constantly reassessing or evaluating. I feel just about anything is up for negotiation and discussion, but that's just me.

So. Manny Ramirez- I'm not going to discredit this man or his gift of being able to slug a ball. This picture is accurate. He looks like he smoked a big fattie, put on a uniform 2 sizes too big, and sauntered out to the field. His is the most nonchalant and unassuming athlete I've ever seen. Again, the man is blessed when it comes to baseball, but seriously... do you look at him and say, "Now there's a great ball player?"

Kevin Youkilis- When he's up at the plate, he looks like a maniacle lumberjack. He is so intense on the ball, it's almost like he's possessed. He would scare me in a dark alley. Seriously, anyone who looks like he does at the plate and has their name phonetically pronounced as "you-kill-us" is dangerous in my book.

I'm not even a baseball fan, but was prompted to write this b/c my coworker couldn't even concede to my opinion when I presented him with these photos. His excuse for Youkilis-- He's a Scotsman, what do you expect?

Um yeah.

A Snapshot Of My Life In Late 2005

I save the emails I've sent. Oftentimes when I sound off on an email it is an honest reflection of where I was mentally and emotionally in that instant. I save them to serve as a reminder of the ebbs and flows of my life.

I am copying an email I sent to two of my best friends from college. This email is probably one of the funniest things I've ever written and it refers largely to the beginning of my father's illness and our ability to handle it all.

It was titled: And the Punches Keep on Coming....

Hi girls.
Happy holidays.

Ang, first of all, you are a dear. I just received your gifts, I love them. I had full intentions of buying you and Ms. Kapela your own handheld electronic free cell game, however, apparently everyone at target wants one of these things, so x-mas may be in January....
-
George was able to get a leave from the hospital and spent x-mas w/ us. He is OK and improving slowly, however he has a GINORMOUS bedsore that required operating. It is currently 7 cm long, 8 cm wide and 6 1/2 cm deep. Think grapefruit... in the ass. He has a wound vacuum that is continually draining it, and this has hindered his recovery. However, he was released today and is now at home w/ a home health care person, a PT and an OT who also come to visit. Margaret's head is spinning.
-
It turns out my cat, Yiddy, is a big skank. She contracted chlamydia. How the fuck did she get that, and can I get it, and since I don't have it, how the hell did SHE get it? These were questions I asked the vet. Rest assured I'm not a risk for catching an STD from my cat...
-
Well, you all know how I love to fall, so x-mas eve wouldn't be right w/ out me stumbling over my brother's dog, his kid and him while trying to walk down the hallway. Oh and that series of pops and cracks going down the right knee, that's normal, right? And the onslaught of tears, b/c I NEVER cry, but try telling that to my now irrational mind that only feels pain! So, b/c my mother has enough stress I refused to go to the ER, and I convinced myself it was nothing. I'm pretty persuasive and was doing just a fine job "convincing" myself that my knee really wasn't THAT swollen, and I could sorta walk. I mean, I got the flu on x-mas day and stayed in bed until 12/27 so, an achy knee was not that big of a deal. Yeah, well yesterday in the ER after it had popped out of place from "walking" it suddenly became apparent to me that it might be an issue. I hear rumblings of tearing my ACL since I described the pain as "burning." BUT since my knee has swollen to the size of my ass, they can't x-ray it properly until the swelling goes down. So yours truly is now under the care of an orthopedic surgeon and a knee brace w/ some crutches and some really great pain pills. The crutches are in my trunk where they will stay as I refuse to acknowledge this development. I'm in such denial over this injury I actually decided to flip and rotate my queen mattress by myself prior to going to the ER. I drove to the ER myself and drove my ass home, leg practically hanging out the window b/c the brace they gave me forces my leg to be STRAIGHT. I don't have time for this and really don't care to deal with it at this point. Hello, I live alone, I have to work and drive somehow. DUH. Unfortunately, it appears that the only thing I can do w/o is the crutches. I go back to the Dr next Friday to discuss my "options." blah.

I once had new years plans, but now I don't. Instead my mother, who we all know has nothing else to do, is coming down to pick me up b/c she doesn't trust me to stay by myself and off my leg for 3 days. So instead of going out and living it up with my friends, I'll be home w/ my dad...sitting next to his wound vac watching it drain shit from the hole in his ass.

I know you're laughing, admit it, I am too. How could you not?

E
Yeah.... Here we are now... My father has passed, my knee is better, crutches were still in the trunk until I bought a new car in March of 2008, my cat survived her STD, and I never did get those pocket free cell games for my friends.

Pardon Me... Are you white?

Chalk it up to one of the most bizarre questions I've been asked, and shockingly I have heard it often, though not lately....

Some Africans moved in below me a few weeks ago. When I say the word "some" I mean to say, I'm not sure how many actually live there. They are perfectly quiet and cordial but so many come in and out of the door, I'm not sure who lives there, and they are quite sporadic in being there at all.

There is a wide variety of ages, dress and what I assume to be "social status." Again, there is not a whole lot of time for me to ascertain the situation as my only glimpse of them is when I walk to and from my door.

What has been unsettling the past few weeks, is without fail, when I leave my apartment, if any of them are outside, they immediately stop what they're doing and STARE. I politely say hello and smile, and as soon as I'm in my car they resume talking or tinkering with the 92 teal Honda Prelude they have been befuddledly working on. I do not mean to imply I have felt threatened or intimated by this, as this is not the case. When I say they have been polite, I'm serious. If the men are sitting or squatting, they stand up bow, nod, or place their hands together and wish me good day... It appears to be sincere, gracious and spoken softly with averted eyes

Today it was raining outside. There is a little covering over the entrances of the apartment and I am on the second floor. Some men were outside their door smoking a pipe and cigar and quietly speaking. Again, I was served up the salutation and stare. As I walked up the steps I heard whispering and then a sigh, and then a "WOULD YOU JUST GO ASK HER!!?!"

The conversation went like this:

"Excuse me, miss?"
"Yes? Are you talking to me?" I said. ( I couldn't tell!!!)
"Hi, uh yes, my parents are staying here while their house is being built, and these are my brothers.. " (names were provided but I can't remember.)
"It's nice to meet you. I'm Erin."
"Erin- Nice to meet you. Listen, can I ask you a question? I don't mean to be rude, but we've been seeing you around for awhile and well, we just want to know... are you a white girl?"
(I'm German/Irish which is as white as they come)
I look at my skin, laugh, and say, "Why yes, I suppose I am."

Then came the shout from one of the brothers.... "I KNEW IT!!! PAY UP!!!"

The man I was talking to apologized and said there was a bet amongst the family members. It appears 1/2 the house thought I was bi-racial and the other 1/2 was convinced I was white. He went on to say his mom thought I had the most beautiful curly hair.

I explained this wasn't the first time I'd heard this question, and there was no need to apologize. I did have the courage to ask, "So is this why you would stare at me whenever I came outside?" He sheepishly said yes.

I entered my apartment and smiled. This is what happens when curly hair meets summer humidity, gotta love it.

I Salute You- Ms. I-Have-Nothing-Better-To-Do-So-I'll-Become-The-Office-Nazi-Administrative-Manager

I know my plight isn't unique, but I am constantly amused at how easy it is for me to set this woman ablaze. Whether it's because I'm too prodigal w/ the office supplies, or I've moved the color-coded chair away from its color-coded table-mate, I continually receive stern words, long sighs, and other unpleasantries quite often as if I somehow didn't manage to graduate kindergarten.

Below is some advice on how NOT to be targeted by your local Office Nazi. Not all have been experienced at my current company nor am I describing one individual in particular.

1. DO NOT for any reason move, rearrange or post any furniture or signs w/o first clearing it w/ said Office Nazi.

2. If you fail #1, and an item shows up on a board or a chair is not back in its proper spot, an APB will be sent out in attempts to find the guilty culprit and the emails will become more severe in nature and downright threatening if you do not confess.

3. DO NOT remove the signs that say "DO NOT MOVE FURNITURE" off work tables when meeting with clients in order to make it look more "professional" because you will fail to put the sign back and THEN #2 happens.

4. DO NOT hire the "Flying Pancake Man" to come in and throw Pancakes at your co-workers for breakfast. While this helps boost office morale, Pancake Man must bring a propane tank into the premises and that violates all kinds of code which will send Office Nazi into such a tailspin, her head might fall off. Furthermore, she will reduce the guilty party for hiring said Pancake Man to tears for being so ludicrous to believe this would actually be permissible.

5. If you dismiss #4, then by all means, DO NOT allow syrup to fall on the floor and stain new carpet.

6. Despite rows of parking spaces, DO NOT allow anyone to enter through the side door. This is an "exit only" door. It doesn't matter if there's a tornado or blizzard outside, if you're foolish enough to park on the side of the building, you must walk around instead of having a co-worker let you in. DO NOT take mercy on the poor souls outside, because if you are caught opening the door, you will be verbally reprimanded by Office Nazi and a nasty email will be sent to your director.

7. DO NOT allow your associates to wear jeans despite 2 feet of snow outside unless it has been cleared by Corporate HR. Failure to do so will result in Office Nazi making the call for you at which point you must revoke the privilege because "Not every business unit has the ability to make such allowances."

8. DO NOT place files, folders, trophies, memorabilia etc on top of workstations. The Night Crew needs to be able to dust this area and it needs to remain clear.-- The only allowable item is the inch of dust that has accrued because the Night Crew has never cleaned up there.

9. DO NOT switch chairs with a coworker unless the color scheme of their workstation matches yours. At no time is office furniture to be "mismatched."

Also, DO NOT misplace, break, steal, or otherwise dispose of coordinating soap dispensers from bathrooms. There must be 4 at all times and these have been purchased with sensitivity and care. Treat them as if you are lucky to have soap.

10. DO NOT accidentally flush your ID badge down the toilet. Otherwise, you will have to alert Office Nazi and she will send an email to corporate security beginning with, " Erin M--- Employee #### has DESTROYED her ID badge...."

11. IT IS IRRELEVANT that Office Nazi has no bearing on your performance, promotability, or earning potential-- she can make your life hell just the same.

One Trump Card Down, 742 Remain

Yes, this pertains to the "Trump Card Theory" I so eloquently spelled out in the beginning of this blog. Oddly enough, this theory has manifested itself in many ways since that entry, and for the most part, it has worked in my favor.

For those of you who know me, I have issues asking for things. Whether it be for help, advice, a material object, whatever. I hate to be a burden to anyone and also don't like being told "no" or "I can't," so unless it's absolutely necessary, I'm pretty much handle things on my own.

Several weeks ago, I began searching for a condo. I'm not sure why as I'm perfectly happy where I am, but something in the back of my mind told me to investigate. I wasn't searching for anything crazy; 2 bedrooms, a garage, and a kitchen that I could actually cook in were top on my priority list.

One weekend, I found a condo that suited my needs and more. It was a little out of my price range, but I kept coming back to it. I met with a mortgage broker, sat down and priced it out and was pretty much ready to move forward-- Except for one thing; I needed my mom. This was the biggest step, most responsibility, highest risk decision I have ever made, and I didn't want to tread lightly. I tend to live life between the lines... consistent, steady, always stable and prepared if the bottom should ever drop out. Boring?- Perhaps, but for those of you who know me, my life is ANYTHING but boring.

So that Saturday afternoon, I called my mother... I strategically prepped her; attempting to detect her mood, her sense of adventure, and utilizing her new-found spontaneity since the passing of my father. I caught her at a great time as she had just spent the afternoon giggling through stores and errands with one of her best friends.

I dropped the bomb and requested she come down for the day on Sunday and head back on Sunday night- A 2 hr trip each way, no church, and no time to plan for Monday's school lessons. She quickly dismissed this saying she had too much to do, that she had NO experience in purchasing homes, and that since our tastes were similar, of course she would love it.

Instead of listing the reasons why I would like her present. I went straight for jugular, laying out the mac daddy of all trump cards. Though I will tell you I softened the blow by warning her it was coming... It went like this:

"Now Mom, I understand this is short notice, and I know you don't like making the trip in one day, but I have one thing to say, and it's big..."
"What is it, Erin?"
"You do a day trip for your grandchildren all the time, (for their b-days, baptisms, etc.) why won't you do it for me?"

----SILENCE, crickets chirping-----

Soon came laughter and then "OH YOU CREEP!" (An expression typically saved for my brother.) "You played the grand kid card!!!" More laughter came from my mother's mouth and I knew I had her convinced. She was coming.

The day actually worked out perfectly although I opted not to purchase this condo. Good friends of my mom were also in town that weekend and they met us up at the condo and went through it with me.

I currently am in contract in another condo community, but my mother has yet to see it. I made her promise though to help me pick out cabinets, flooring, and other features "at some point" this summer.....

Park the Car Ya Old Bag

It's funny, I'm the one in the family who has the reputation of being blunt, overly candid, and at times, inappropriately outspoken. The above statement however, did not come from my lips, but that of my sensitive, mild-mannered older brother, who is also the favorite. Who on earth would he say this to you ask? Why the Queen Supreme, Lady Margaret, aka my mother.

We took a family trip to Oglebay Park where we all reunited to celebrate my father by spreading his ashes where he grew up as a child. On the first night there, we decided to go up to the lodge and have the children burn up some energy in the indoor pool. My mother and sister drove separately while the kids, Matt, Julie and myself piled into the "Sport Van." (Keep in mind Sport Van = Mini Van.) As we pull into the parking lot, we see my mother's car up ahead stopped in the aisle, right across from the entrance. This is a PREMIUM parking spot. My brother, in his ultimate orneriness, sped up and crouched right up on my mom's bumper. We see this beautiful parking spot we assume my mother is trying to take. But she's not, she's just sitting there. After about 15 seconds, Matt rolls down the window and shouts, "Park the car you old bag!" Assuming my mom knew he was behind her. With that my mom sped off. I chastised my brother saying there's a special spot in hell for children who call their mothers old bags and make them pass up a good parking spots. He argued that wasn't what he was trying to do, and that Mags is just so kind-hearted, she realized that Matt has 3 kids, a slew of toys and gave up the parking spot out of consideration and love for her family.

Fast forward 3 hrs later. We have all had a round in the pool, the kids are tired, and it's time to head back to the cabin. My mother has sat on a chair holding Maggie and staring off into space at times and then staring straight ahead at this man from across the pool. She is not smiling. My mother is not a vain woman, but her Achilles heel is age. She will forever be perfectly coiffed, nails painted and immaculately dressed until her last breath. Never a grandma but "Nana" b/c it sounds less old. If you ever want to insult her just call her old and sit back and watch the rage.

So my brother while drying off, casually says to my mom, "Hey thanks for giving me that parking spot, I didn't mean to make you do that." With that, my mother's legs came uncrossed and she stood straight up and said, "That was you!?" She was incredulous, shocked and speechless. My brother, also surprised, asked, "Well who do you think it was? Didn't you see the red sport van w/ your smiling son and daughter sitting in the front seat?" We are all laughing now, as my mom said no, she didn't realize it was us and had been spending the entire evening thinking it was the man sitting on the other side of the pool. She was indignant that a stranger would say something like that to her especially at a place like Oglebay and pondered how he would've been able to see if she was "old" since she was in her car and shout came from behind her! It ruined her evening!

We continued to laugh and she explained the reason she sped off is because she overshot the parking space and was trying to reverse to get into it. Since my brother had come up so close behind her, she was unable to do so, and thus could not park the car.

We reassured my mother, advising her that she indeed was not, nor ever will be an old bag... But it does make you wonder how she didn't see her smiling children in the rear view mirror....

Crying Over Spilled Milk... Literally

I dedicate this post to my sister Tracy, as in her comments from my last posting inspired this topic.

The "Great Salad Debacle" of Memorial Day, 2008 was proceeded by the "Incident of the Spilled Milk" in the winter of 2004.

It was my first apartment by myself. I had lived with my brother after graduating and then with roommates. In the summer of 2003, I decided I wanted a place on my own. I had a good job and felt ready for this step. What I didn't account for was the numerous weddings, babies, bridal showers, bachlorette parties and baby showers I would become inundated with in late 2003 and into 2004. I choose to believe I went into debt due to the life events of my friends rather than because I bought too many Coach purses that year, but I'm sure it's a combination of both.

In early 2004 it was freezing. I couldn't keep my apt above 67 without it running constantly, so I had an electric blanket on my couch. I was struggling, but I never really let on how much. I made enough to cover my expenses, but was in a holding pattern when it came to paying down my debt. I knew down to the cent how much money I had to spend on groceries, car payment and bills and I lived very frugally in order to continue to pay down my consumer debt.

My brother often visited me at my apartment. I love him to death, but the boy is a human trash compacter when it comes to scarfing down food. He ravenous. On this particular day, he walked into my house, said hi, hugged me and announced he was hungry. I had 1/4 of a cup of milk left which I specifically reserved for the food I was preparing that week. Matt walked into my kitchen, grabbed a bowl proceeded to prepare a bowl of cereal. I asked him not to drink my milk--- that there wasn't enough for a bowl of cereal and that I needed the milk for the rest of the week. My brother thought I was kidding. I mean seriously, it was a 1/2 gallon container of milk... not something to break the bank. He ignored me, made his cereal, laughed when there wasn't enough milk, brushed past me, sat on my couch, turned on my TV, and ate his cereal!

Words cannot describe my rage in this scenario. I thought to myself, this son of a bitch strolls into MY house, Disregards MY wishes, eats MY food, on MY couch, watching MY TV!!! I felt disrespected and indignant that my sentiments could be brushed aside so easily. Without a word, I grabbed my keys and left, knowing if I stayed I would lose my control. I drove around and calmed myself down. Upon returning to my apartment, my brother realized that I didn't just take out the trash, I had left. Therefore, he left, too and was gone by the time I returned.

I received an angry phone call from him about leaving him in my apartment without saying anything. I laid into him... Tears streaming and all. I swear, my poor brother couldn't get past the part about arguing over milk. I kept saying, "Matt forget the milk. It's not the milk... It's what the milk REPRESENTS" So then he tried to determine what led up to this. Is it that time of the month, am I fighting with Mom, is everything OK at work? I got more and more upset, thinking "No, you idiot, I'm upset with YOU coming in to MY house and acting like YOU OWN IT..!

The fight eventually resolved. My brother came over the next week w/ a jug a milk to which I made wonderful tapioca pudding for us.

Now I'm more financially stable. I look forward to my brother's visits. I always keep a 12 pack of Diet Sunkist (I won't touch the stuff) for him as well as vitamin water and snackies. Hell, 2 days ago I gave him salad, a turkey bagel sandwich, 2 advil, vitamin water, AND sat through a 1/2 hour of BRAVEHEART.

I think i've grown.

Sammyisms

I'm dedicating this post to my middle niece- Sammy.

I have been told she acts alot like I did as a child and I can't believe this is possible. Mostly because she is so hilarious and adorable-- Traits I don't see in myself at all!

Notorious Sammy Quotes:

"Big Titty!" (referring to my cat- Sammy struggled awhile with the "K" sound.)

"Nana and Erin are taking us to the store to get some CRACK!" (My mother and I were going to the store w/ the girls to buy new CROCS.)

"Don't Spit, Daddy! Just Blow!" (Her advice on how to blow out b-day candles)

"Is Aunt Erin a Stupid head?" (She asked her mother this when she was mad at me)

"My sister." (when asked what she was most thankful for)

"She IS NOT MY SISTER!!! (When her daddy was tickling Miriam like crazy I told her to go save her sister.)

"My mommy has a big nose." (Sammy sang this to the tune of twinkle twinkle little star.)

"My heart is beeping really fast!"

" I don't want to be a princess- I'm Super Sammy!" (Comment she made to me when I called her a princess. )

I love this kid. She cracks me up on a continual basis. While Mir and I are buddies, there is a special spot in my heart for my sassy niece and I know she is going to give my brother and Julie fits!

2 Girls and their Dog.

As previously mentioned, I spent most of my weekend entertaining, spoiling and supervising my nieces this weekend. My mom came down as well and she brought the family dog, Max.

Max was a gift to Mir on her 2nd b-day. Sammy was only 6 months old and Max was just a puppy. I remember the day vividly when I first met Max. I walked into my brother's house to see the epitome of utter chaos. It was Halloween that night and in this one evening, the life insurance agent, trick-or-treaters, and a medic were coming by all within the hour. To make things worse, my sister in law was throwing together some resemblence of dinner before heading off to work. I walked into the house to hear Sammy wheezing like a 80 year old smoker, Mir prancing around in a princess dress and this giant puff of fur yapping in a little cage. My brother looked at me as if I was a gift from God, handed me both kids and the puppy and asked me to take them out of the house while he and Julie settled matters with the insurance agent prior to Julie leaving for work. We walked around the block, (stroller, puppy and princess) and when I came back, the medic was there dropping off the nebulizer for sammy's bronchitis. My brother looked at me again and said, "not yet." Another block. I came back this time and handed Matt the kids, stuck the dog out in the back and then proceeded to hand out candy while Matt finished getting the girls dressed. Julie was long gone off to work. Suddenly, there was a candy shortage, which is a BIG NO NO as my brother would never want to be the house that ran out of candy. I left to get some candy. Came back, Matt took the kids to a few houses and when they came back, it was time to initiate sammy to the nebulizer. TEARS. She looked like an elephant. I got Mir in the tub, Sammy quieted down and then I hear this "yip yip yip" from the garage. OH CRAP! The puppy!

I looked at my brother with incredulous eyes and uttered something about being a saddist. He just sat back and smiled and said, this is life, and I love every minute of it.

We decided to name the dog "Max" because Mir could say his name easily.

Fast forward 3 years. Max is a Big dog, weighing close to 90 lbs. He was great with the girls, but he didn't have enough room to play and run and get exercise.

We had a family meeting with me, my mom, matt, and Julie and even Julie's parents, and it was decided Max was going home to live with my mom and dad (nanna and pop-pop.) We presented this to the girls that Max needed to keep Pop-pop company and he could run and play. The girls were sad at first, but since they visited nanna's house often, they knew they'd get to see Max.

This weekend, when my mom brought Max down the girls wanted him back. You have to love the logic of children. We explained to them when we took Max away that he was going to Nanna and Pop-pop's house to play with Pop-pop. Pop-pop is now deceased, so it only makes sense to them that Max should come back to their house.

It appears Mir and Sammy have been talking about Max coming back for some time, because now the time line for Max's return is when "Nanna downsizes her house and moves to a condo." When my mom came into the house on Friday night, Mir hugged her, and very pointedly asked, "Nanna, when are you going to move so we can have our dog back?!?!?"

Last night, when I tucked the girls into bed, gave them kisses and wished them sweet dreams, they asked me to tell them 2 stories. I asked what they wanted to hear. They asked about how their mommy and daddy met (1st story) and to tell the story about how Max came into their life.

They giggled and squealed all the way through my stories and when I was done, we said our prayers. We didn't pray for anything else but Max. I even asked about praying for sick and sad children, mommy and daddy, etc.. the answer I got back was, "Nope, we just want to pray for Max. We don't want him to die before he comes back to us... Can we go to sleep now, Erin? We're very tired."

Oh Alright.

Gotta love kids. Their thought processes are so simple and pure.

Sorry guys- it's been awhile since my last blog. Been a little busy- and I still don't have much to say BUT, I've got the kids this weekend (as in my nieces- all three. ) I'm sure I'll have plenty to say on Monday. To be fair, I should say "we" as mags will also be present, but she treasures her "Nana" role and is not big on being an enforcer or disciplinarian. I get to be the bad cop. Good thing I grew that back bone mentioned in my last post!!!

Backbone, anyone?

This week's lesson I have to learn is not everyone is going to like you ALL the time. This is a hard one for me b/c look who my mother is! I don't know one person who has an ill-word to say about my mother. Granted I may be partial, but seriously- even her co-workers call her "Lady Margaret!"

I can count on one hand the amount of arguments I've had in the past 10 years. I feel much more comfortable exercising diplomacy and generally let go of my personal issues in order to maintain harmony. It's all immaterial anyway, and unless i feel my integrity or honor is being called into question, it's generally not worth my time. I believe this is the result of growing up with someone who had a trigger-happy temper, and I learned words said in anger can be hurtful and while it is easy to forgive, it is hard to forget.

This week, my integrity was called into question by a coworker who is also my friend. Like most arguments, it has stemmed from a glitch in the communication lines and while my intentions were pure and in the service of being a friend, she does not see it this way.

In years past, I would be devastated. I HATE CONFLICT, and I hate feeling I have been misunderstood. However, in this particular circumstance I don't feel the need to justify my motives. I clarified the actions that were misinterpreted and said I had a clear heart and conscience about my role and have moved on.

She is still not speaking to me. Admittedly, I'm saddened by this. Maybe it will blow over, and maybe it won't. I wrestle the the notion of compromising my integrity in order to maintain peace and again remind myself of the lesson I'm being taught: Nowhere is it written that I must loved by all in order to succeed in life. While it would be nice, it's unrealistic ;-)

The Journal

Yeah, this is going to be one of those times when I'm not exactly sure what's going to come out in this post. For as long as I could write and spell, I've kept a journal. I have managed to hold onto them from April of 1990 to now. Unfortunately, for some reason, I stopped writing back in 2004 or 2005. I don't really know why, either, b/c it was in my journal that I would seek solace and be comforted by whatever flowed from my hand. I wrote without fear of conflict or judgement because I knew the thoughts were my own and stemmed from the purest place inside of me.

I used to get teased in college about my journal. What did I write about? How could I have THAT MUCH to write when I hardly exercised my opinion? It's true. I would disappear to some random corner in the dorm, to the formal gardens, on a rooftop, anywhere where I could be alone with my thoughts.

I miss my journal. As I go back and read my entries, I CRACK UP laughing. It is so interesting to see how my thoughts were reflected by emotions and the inexperience of youth. I can tell instantly by my handwriting what kind of mood I was in.

I think for your reading pleasure, I will give you a sample of my journal when I was in middle school. -- And before I write it, I must first say-- How ridiculous is it to write, "Dear Journal, How are you? I'm fine..." I crack myself up.

Monday, August 20th, 1990 10:30 PM

Dear Journal,
HI! What's up? Not much here. I had to get up this morning at 7:00. YUK! I had a piano lesson today. (What a drag) Piano is very stupid. After piano, I stayed home and read a book. Billy and Matt came in soaked w/ mud. I helped Billy with his clothes (not that I wanted to.) I washed my hair and watched some tv for the rest of the evening. Well, Gotta Go. Bye
Erin.
PS. 7 days until 6th grade.

I'm laughing hysterically about helping "Billy with his clothes." What the hell does that mean !?!?! I was 11 years old when I wrote this, and Billy is my best friend's older brother and NOW my Insurance agent!!!! I couldn't STAND Billy when I was this age b/c he and my brother would torment me.

Yeah... Something tells me I should start writing again. Hopefully 10 years from now, I'll look back on the mistakes of my 20's and laugh like I am now about my adolescence.

BANANAGRAMS

My brother often teases me by saying, "Well Erin, I don't really know what I can say around you now, b/c it might shamelessly end up in your blog." Since my brother is one of my favorite people, I feel I must now divulge a hidden quirk of mine so as to show in reality, we're all a little bizarre.

Bananagrams. This is a game. If I were an intelligent woman, I would set "Bananagrams" as a hyperlink to Amazon.com-- I'm not that clever. So look it up.

If you're too lazy to look it up, allow me to explain. It's like scrabble, w/o a board. You build your on word puzzle and you work independently of the other players. Whomever has a complete puzzle when all the letters are out of the middle wins. There is no timing, or skill level required. You just need to know how to spell and form words. Any age can play it.

I must pay homage to the woman who introduced me to this game-- Judy. Since the introduction of this game in the summer of 2006, I have since purchased numerous games and given them to friends. It's gone to the beach, to church, a x-mas eve celebration, a bar, and to friends houses.

You know you're truly an expert if you use 2 hands to gather letters and form words- It's harder than it sounds.

I'm an expert.

Now, here's the part about my quirk... When you're suddenly quizzed on your ability to form words, you instantly realize you don't have a whole lot of reserves in your vocabulary for words that have a "j" in it. How about "wh" or "tw" and "sw" or of course, the cursed "Q." Since I am ridiculously stubborn, when I see a weakness in my own intellectual ability, it becomes all- consuming. I would go to bed, and since we all know I don't sleep, I would lie awake sounding out words w/ various letter combinations. Now granted, I didn't deprive myself of sleep or lose my ability to function, but I saw this as a challenge, and I became mildly obsessed. I even started playing by myself. I wanted to see how long it would take me to fill the board. It took me 49 minutes the first time, and now I've gotten down to 35. Get the game-- you'll know what I mean once you play. AND for those of you who read this who have played, back me up here. ;-)

And You Must Be 'The Aunt'

I have a thing for children-- That is to say, I don't always like them- They freak me out on a continual basis. However, since my brother has had children my aloofness has waned. I still don't pay a whole lot of attention to Maggie-- she's 2 months... But when a watched her this past Sunday, I whispered in her ear and said, "Just give me 1 year, Maggie. When you can start talking, walking and weigh more than a sack of flour, we're gonna have an awesome time."

I received a phone call from my eldest niece on Friday-- A large feat since she just started to know how to use a phone. She asked her mom if she could call me, got the phone, and asked what my phone number was. When I answered the phone, I heard this little sheepish voice on the other line saying:

"Aunt Erin?"
"Hey Mir, What's up- Did your mommy and daddy put you up to calling me?"
"No! I want to ask you something."
"What is it, sweetie?"
"Will you make me a scarf like you did for mommy?"
(Instant heart-melt!!!) "Sure, do you want to go to JoAnn Fabrics tomorrow and pick out the yarn?"
"Really?! You'll make me a scarf and I can pick out the yarn?"
"Absolutely."
"Oh Aunt Erin, I just can't wait to see you!"

So the next day, Mir and I get ready to go on our trip. Sammy, my middle niece comes out sulking. Lower lip out and all, saying "I want to go and get a STARF, too." (we're working on our "c" and "k" sounds.) Mir and I agree Sammy should be part of this adventure, but I now have panic in my eyes... I'm thinking 2 kids, 3 errands to run, and my brother's mini-van. Totally out of my comfort zone! For all of you people who have children, I know you're saying, "uh welcome to my world..." But as a single girl... this is huge.

We embark on our trip. I have explained to the girls we have 3 places to go; Joann Fabrics, the bank, and the gift shop.. (AKA, the yarn store, the money store, and the candy store.-- gotta love how children simplify things. ) At "the Yarn Store" we discovered so many choices- they were overwhelmed, but we managed to pick out 2 very nice yarns for their scarves. At the Money Store, we had a discussion of whether or not the ground outside was mud or dirt. This was quite a passionate debate and upon further inspection, it was decided some parts were mud and some were dirt.

The Candy Store- The holy grail for little girls who love chocolate. I had told the admins at work I would pick them up some of the best chocolate they'd ever had. So of course that means I had to go someplace that sold Ben Heggy's Candy! The girls walked in and literally stopped in their tracks. I reminded them since they were so good, I would buy them each 2 pieces of candy.

When I left the store, each child came out with 4 pieces of candy and both had large helium smiley faced foil balloons w/ matching ribbons and little weights at the bottom. I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF!!! They were so awe-struck at all the choices and then the different balloons... It was just too much. And the thing of it is... they didn't even ASK for anything- I just wanted to get them everything because they just looked soo precious!

When I stood at the cash register purchasing my assortment of candy and balloons, the sales rep handed me the balloon strings and said, "You must be an Aunt... there is no way a mother would give in so easily..."

Yeah, you might as well just have "sucker" written on my forehead.

See My Widget??

I added a Widget to my page. I want to see how many of you guys actually look at my blog ;-)

All Things I Need to Know in Life I Learned From My Mom.

This is a take on the familiar "All I need to know in life I learned in kindergarten." I spent the weekend with my mother and had a wonderful time. She really is an amazing person and though she often bears the brunt of my teasing, her presence in my life is a blessing.

Always practice good manners- you did not grow up in a barn. Saying "Buck up honey, this too shall pass," to someone who is in need is not exactly comforting. Just because you know your right hand from your left doesn't mean you will know which way is East or West. Beating a dead horse when attempting to drive home a point will just cause your audience to tune you out. Saying "I know" as a response to the dead horse conversation WILL NOT stop the lecture- It actually makes it worse. You will never graduate from mommy school- a mother will always dispense advice, direction, criticism and love- deal with it. Always be the bigger person- your strength of character is not relative to the circumstance that tests it. Always have your house ready for company- you never know who may stop by. Go with the flow- it causes less stress.

Only truly confident and fashion-forward people can pull off the "dressy sweat outfit" look and pair it with knee highs and flats and still manage to be cute. People with lots of hair look silly in hats- give up and get over it. Never sunbathe with Baby oil and iodine- you'll pay for it 40 years later. If you wear a yellow sweater with a yellow skirt and yellow flats you will be teased. Clunky shoes make you look like you have "hooves" for feet.

Love and give with your whole heart and don't ask what's in it for you. Laughter is the best therapy. Do whatever it takes to "GIT ER DONE." Kill them with kindness. Be patient. Listen first, react second. Showing up right on time does not mean you're running late. Remaining idle is a waste of time, there is always something productive to do. It is OK to ask for help. Your taste buds change every 7 years- try it even if you don't think you like it. Share. Concentrate on the task at hand. Indecisiveness hinders progress. Don't be afraid to be wrong.

Standing with hands on hips and right foot sticking out does not command attention. Communicate and be clear about what you want. Send thank you notes and make them personal. Read directions first if you have no clue what you're doing. Don't be afraid to try. Failure only exists if you're unable to learn from your mistakes. Forgive- it goes along with "being the bigger person." You don't have to yell in order for your voice to be heard.

Your success in life will depend on how quickly you can adjust to the curve balls life throws you. Pray- God will never give you more than you can handle- have faith. Smile. Be gracious and humble. Don't procrastinate.

Saying "Judas Priest" when you're shocked often makes people laugh. No one knows what "piffle" means unless you knew Pearl. A real lady never swears or burps. Don't crack your knuckles. And lastly-- If you put something in a safe spot- MAKE SURE you remember where the "safe spot" is, otherwise this safe spot becomes the Bermuda triangle of all things lost.

I'm certain there are many more Magisms, but alas, I must move on.

T-Mobile

I am using this forum to publicly bash T-Mobile- A stand I am unaccustomed to taking.

I have never had T-Mobile cellular service, but when my identity was stolen, they used it to open a T-mobile family share plan. When the account was not paid, they ran my credit report and proceeded to send the bills to my address. This was how I found out I was a victim of Identity theft-- In some abstract way, I am thankful for this, as otherwise I would have had no clue this was occurring.

So, we are now 2 months in and I have successfully restored my credit back to where it was. I was even able to purchase a new car. (Yippee!!!) The only thing remaining was this stupid T-Mobile bill of 792.00 and they were refusing to deem the account as fraud.

Something to note- when applying for a service utility (such as a phone) you need to supply a photo ID. T-Mobile has all of this- the front-back of my social security card, and my driver's license. This verifies the person who used a fake ID to open the cellular account was not me.

My last instruction from T-Mobile was the fraudulent address and contact info was still on my credit report, and once I got it removed, they would deem it as fraud. On Monday, I received notification it has been changed and removed off my credit report.

Yesterday, I called T-Mobile and advised them of the same. I was then told I needed to file a police report naming a suspect and to send a utility bill verifying I didn't live at the address they have on file.

Alarm sirens blared in my head-- 2 problems.
1. I have already filed a police report, but have not named a suspect b/c I HAVE NO FREAKING CLUE WHO DID THIS.
2. The address they have on file IS MY REAL ADDRESS!!!! (how else would I have gotten the bill?!?!?)

As I calmly and rationally attempted to explain this to the fraud rep, I was advised this was my only course of action. Exasperated, I said, and I quote.."let me get this straight. You want me to file a police report, falsely accusing someone of stealing my identity and thereby committing a felony offense, AND send you a utility bill from the address where I currently live in order to prove I DON'T live there?"

I then became a little more forceful advising the $792.00 is small potatoes in comparison to the 19k of fraud that was on 1 of the 6 credit cards opened. I then asked why something as insignificant as a phone bill is the thorn in my side while $37k just magically disappeared of my credit as soon as the credit companies received my identity theft affidavit?

I was met with silence.

After a long pause the fraud rep asked if he could run an inquiry on my credit report. I gave him permission and he decided b/c I now have a "fraud victim alert" attached to my credit file for the next 7 years, he would erase the account and mark it as fraud.

I felt like I just one a boxing match- In 10 rounds. But alas, it is done! Yea!

In Some Things

I'm headed back to the light-hearted side of life. The past few weeks have been wrought with craziness, and there's nothing like the comfort of routine. So, in the spirit of this, I'm going to write about my favorite topic.... My mother. There will be many more postings of the wondrous Mags, but I told this story the other night at dinner, and it went over well, so thus, I shall share with you.

Over the holiday season, my mother had some work done on her car. When she was about to wrap things up, the store manager came out and studied my mother quizzically.

"Mrs. M-. Are you the mother of Erin?"
"Why yes." my mother replied.
"Wow! Erin and I used to be pretty good friends back in Jr. High. I haven't seen her in years. What is she up to these days?"
My mother explained where I was currently living and working, etc.etc.
Now, I do remember this person. He went out with a friend of mine and we ran around together until the relationship fizzled with my friend.

The conversation continued.
"You know what I remember about, Erin? She was really friendly and intelligent."
With that, my mother cocked her head to one side and said, "yeah, in some things..."

IN SOME THINGS!?!?!? When Mags told me she had run into this person, I have to say I was kinda pleased he thought of me as being smart. I perceive this as one of the best compliments one can bestow upon me. So naturally when my mother finishes the story and doesn't say something like, "Thank you, yes, she works very hard." or "Yes, Thank you, we're so proud of her..." I'm speechless. This from the same woman who tried to argue with me that sometimes we get weather from the east. (I reasoned with her by asking when was the last time we got weather coming in from Pittsburgh...)

As I incredulously chastised my mother for her response, she explained she didn't want to appear boastful or arrogant. I reminded her a simple "thank you." would have been gracious, not boastful.

It appears the lesson behind this story is a mother's continual pursuit of instilling humility is never ending. If you ever feel you're getting to too big for your britches, have a chat with Mags. She'll set you straight.

In Honor of George

It is no secret to most of you who know me very well, my father and I had an intricate relationship. Sometimes the only commonality shared between us was our passion for being stubborn and head-strong. It is because of this that we often found ourselves on opposite sides of the fence.

That being said, I never doubted my father loved me. I think sometimes he just didn't know how to show his love.

My father had a flare for life and expression. Always boisterous and ornery, he could fire out sentences to make you double over with laughter or cut you to the knees. He was a force to be reckoned with and never went down without a fight.

Even when he first became ill, he would not be tied down. I remember seeing him in the hospital with both of his legs and arms in restraints because he was determined to get up and walk out of the hospital. I remember the day before my birthday in 2005, it was one of my father's lucid days. My mom was visiting him in the hospital and she handed him the phone to talk to me. My father, who's speech was slurred from having a stroke, barked out, "Erin, you're the smartest one of the bunch, come up here and get me out!!!!" I howled with laughter. The next day, he was unresponsive and we all came up to say goodbye and let him go. But no, George wasn't ready. He still had 2 1/2 years to spend with his family.

It was hard on my mother, but in these 2 years, my father's eyes were opened. He became reacquainted with the amazing woman he married and marvelled at her grace and ingenuity. He was able to watch his son become a father again and spent quality time with his grandchildren. After 17 years, my entire maternal extended family reunited again partly becuase of him. I think one of his happiest times was x-mas of 2006 when most of our extended family was back in his house, under his roof, celebrating family x-mas eve together again as they had nearly 2 decades before.
Our family took one last trip to Oglebay where he got to see the next generation of children chase ducks, ride the paddle boats and tour the Good Zoo--- All things he started with his own children many years ago. Even in the end, he could still kick-ass in cards and was beating my mother only a few weeks ago.

Unfortunately, I hadn't spoken to my dad in the few weeks before his death. He would yell, "I love you" over the phone as I talking to my mom and I would shout it back, but that's about it. The last coversation was over a voiceamail he left me several weeks ago when I was in a car accident and missed my LSAT. He told me he loved me, that I was strong, I would get through this, and he was very proud of me.

On Saturday I will bury my dad. It will be a day of sadness, but it will be filled with love and laughter. Just like my dad.

You've got to be kidding.

Yes, I have a cat. I named her Yiddy, or Yiddy the Kiddy. I freely admit I am quirky and so the name Yiddy the Kiddy should be of no surprise to any of you.

I posted this picture b/c It looks to me as if she's saying, "You're shoving a camera in my face?!?! You've got to be kidding me..." Some of you have the pleasure of knowing Yiddy... She is diva supreme and she has no problem telling you who's boss-- It's clearly NOT me.

I received a call the other day from Citizen's Bank. As many of you know, I have recently become aware my identity has been stolen. Without going into extreme detail, someone was able to lift my social security number and open up 6 credit cards w/ over $60k of available credit. A savings account, checking count and CD were also opened in my name. It appears my evil doppelganger was using the credit cards to make cash withdrawals from ATMS and was putting them in her banking account-- also in my name. By the time I caught it, over $37k had been withdrawn. I began the process of calling on the accounts, filing a complaint with the FTC, and filling out an official identity theft affidavit. I then placed a hold on my credit so that any time credit was being requested in my name and ssn, I would receive a phone call before authorization could be granted.

Imagine my surprise when Citizen's Bank called me (the bank where there are multiple lines of credit cards and banking accounts) and advised me they had a person on hold on the other line, claiming to be me and complaining because her accounts had been cut off and was attempting to open another line of credit! I said let me get this straight.... The woman who stole my identity is currently "on hold," and she's complaining because I have closed her accounts and put a freeze on my credit? ( thus barring her from further use of my identity) I was advised yes, this was correct and the woman who is responsible for stealing my identity is on the other line. My mind starts reeling. I envision a helicopter and SWAT team circling this woman's house barging down her door and reclaiming my good credit score. Alas, this does not occur... It takes time to investigate, establish a paper trail, etc. I was so close!!!!!

Now, I'm a good person. I would never wish harm another human being, but my God, I would have killed to have a nice conversation with this woman!!! I hung up the phone in disbelief... My cat was walking by and I playfully threw a pillow at her. She stopped in her tracks and gave me the same look as described in the above picture, and that was exactly how I felt when I thought about the conversation I had just had... You've got to be f-ing kidding me.....

Life is like a game of Euchre...

I introduce to you the TRUMP CARD THEORY posed to me by my brother several years ago, and has reared it's ugly head yet again.

In the summer of 2004, I found myself in a familiar situation of having to move yet again. Up to that point, I had moved every year since the age of 18, why should this year be any different? In discussing my options with my brother, he blurted out I should come and live with him, his wife and 2 small children. I dismissed the idea as being absurd and laughed out loud. I think I off-handedly insulted my brother by my outburst, and what was once a suggestion made in jest, blew up into a dissertation of the benefits of living with his family. Though I quickly reminded him of my career and fairly affable income, my brother would not drop the subject. I also stated I was not in dire need of his generosity nor was I in any kind of crises, and again declined his offer. My brother then changed his tactics, positing that I am the type of person who will never need help, nor would I ask for it. He further illustrated his point by providing examples of when I have been of service to my friends or family in need. I agreed to his message thus far, which got his momentum going. It was then mentioned how I have earned all these favors, or "trump cards," from the people I have helped, but have never cashed in on them. His final message was that I'm going to end up old, sitting in my rocker on my porch with all these trump cards in my hand and no way to use them. I smiled and my heart warmed with love for my brother. I marveled how the prospect of gaining a live-in babysitter positioned my brother for this great diatribe.

We spoke little of this conversation since that time. I have retold it to friends and we have joked about it occasionally.... Two weeks ago while telling him about missing my LSAT and having the slight possibility to fly to Idaho to take the test, my brother sat back on his chair and said, "I guess this would be one of those times you could use one of your trump cards and get someone to go out there with you on this adventure...."

The Birth of my Blog

Due to immense peer pressure, I have decided to jump off the cliff into the bottomless abyss of blog writing. I don't feel I'm particularly interesting or that what I have to share is stimulating, but I appear to be the minority in this sentiment. So, alas, I present to you-- MY BLOG. It has been named "It's character building," as this has been a quote of mine for several years. I use it most when people are extending sympathy for a particular occurence in my life they deem to be difficult. It is easy for me to say, "Ah, it's character building," as I appear to have issues when people express worry or concern for me. I don't like people to worry, and sometimes I feel like I have to reassure THEM that I'M OK instead of the other way around! That being said, it is comforting to surrounded by people who care, and I feel truly blessed to have such great friends and family.

More to follow.