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Other People’s Time. It’s a Pretty Big Deal

 

I considered some New Year’s resolutions. Then I thought, “That’s stupid. Just make better habits.” That’s all resolutions are: better habits. 

Here’s my Happy New Year habit proclamation to all seven people reading this post:

“I will be punctual for appointments. If not on time, I shall be early!”

Simple. Everything’s written in my planner, iPhone, iPad and on the fridge. Do we have tools out our wazoos or what?

And yet, January 3rd, three days into 2020, I missed my 7:00 a.m haircut. Not late for it. I missed it completely.

First you wonder, “Why would anyone pick seven o’clock a.m.?” 

The first appointment means no waiting. This time doesn’t conflict with other commitments. It’s the best slot.

Second, I love my hairapy. (Hair + therapy). If you are a good fit with your stylist, you know what I’m talking about. Every four weeks Kris cuts. We talk about stuff. What I’ve been doing. What he’s been doing. Travel stuff. Life stuff.

Also, short hair needs regular cuts. If stretched further, you’ll have wonky spots (i.e. basic bedhead or hat hair). Not pretty.

In December, I stuck the appointment card in my backpack-card-keeper. I wrote it in my planner. That should have taken care of it.

I should’ve done a lot of things. I should’ve typed it into my work calendar, which pops up with daily. I should’ve written it on the refrigerator calendar. I should’ve stuck the card on the door with a magnet like usual. I should’ve, but I didn’t.

And as I’ve said it before, “SHOULD IS A DUMB WORD!”

I found the card and realized I hadn’t read my planner the night before. 

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” I said. (Plus a really bad word.)

I beat myself up all weekend for being inconsiderate. 

Kris will say, “It’s okay.”

But it’s not okay. I feel rude and irresponsible. Most importantly, when appointments are disappointments -meaning a no-show- the business loses money. Time is money. Believe it or not, someone else may have wanted that 7:00 a.m. And I disappointed. Like pearly white teeth, with a front tooth missing. That was me. Being late or a no-show makes me feel disrespectful. It shows how little I must care about someone else’s time. But it’s really not that. It’s not. It’s more like being Busy Bobbe. Too many things in too many directions. Kris should charge me anyway. 

So I’m proclaiming it for all to read, “New habit. Right here. Right now.”

We can have 100 excuses about why we‘re late or why we disappointed. None of them carry weight, other than laying on an ER gurney or searching for a lost child, parent or dog. Aside from those, they’re just excuses.

The bottom line is: it’s about somebody else’s time. And that’s a pretty big deal. 

Honor it. Happy New Habit Year.

Bw

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Can’t You Just Sit There and Be Quiet?

 

 

GROCERY

Nurse White shops for Korey’s recovery. (Note: side pocket wine is for the nurse.)

 

Last week, Korey, needed a nurse for post- dental surgery in Washington D.C. Mom to the rescue! Does having four wisdom teeth pulled in eighteen minutes count as surgery? I don’t know, because:

  1. I never got wisdom teeth. (Hold the jokes.)
  2. If the dentist looks 12½ years old is it called, “Surgery or science class?”

In either case, me helping her was laughable. Neither of us likes blood. In seventh grade, Korey missed school the day after getting her ears pierced, because a blood droplet was on her earlobe. Me? I could never look at Nick’s, appendectomy incision. Not even once.

Preparation

During the morning, I made multiple trips to the grocery and CVS. Here’s the shopping list:

  • Hefty bags: gallon and quart
  • Dish soap
  • Charmin
  • Bounty paper towels
  • Glade
  • Hot pad

These were supplies for teeth extraction? Anyone who visits a child, sibling or parent shops like this for the host. I met friends along the way: Deli Shop Sammy and Young in the grocery. I purchased obligatory ice cream, pudding, Jell-O and Sprite too.

 

Appointment

I’m unsure which of us was more nervous. Friday @ 1:30p.m. Korey arrived from work. I walked from her apartment. I’d have been on time, except D.C., like many cities, has 2311 M Street, Northwest, Southwest and East-by-Northwest. Of our founding fathers’ brilliant ideas, street naming wasn’t one of them. My walk was supposedly .6 mile. Google said 6.7 miles! Guess who was going to be late and lost? Korey answered my S.O.S. and I recalculated.

 

Recovery

Korey was a good patient (ice, rest, fluids, “This Is Us”) and Saturday night we went out for pasta!

 

Normalcy

As scheduled, Korey conducted a 2-hour webinar Sunday, for associates. We silenced the T.V., phones and apparently everything but Bobbe. As the webinar commenced my throat tickled, forcing me to stifle coughing with a pillow. It wouldn’t stop. I considered available remedies, such as honey, Jack Daniels or peanut butter. Desperation. I landed on almond butter. It tasted weird, but worked.

 

I read for a while, then decided to nap on the couch, falling asleep fast. Before long, Korey was wiggling my big toe, “Shhhhhhh. They can hear you snoring!” I couldn’t do ANYTHING quiet. I got up and read again. Jeff texted us, “What’s for dinner?” I replied and Korey informed me that our family-wide text was crawling across the webinar screen. Jeesh.

 

Korey was beyond frustrated. We tried. We really tried, but Murphy’s Law of Silence ruled: the quieter you try to be, the noisier you will become. What can I say? This nurse was a helpful, but noisy one. And, yes Virginia, there IS a tooth fairy. Even at age 29.

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adaptation balance couth determination empowerment etiquette laughter Life balance manners midwest living parenting Stress management, humor, balance wardrobe malfunction

Adultiquette: Sniglets for Couth After Youth

WTAD.COM WHITE PAGES 1/26/17

Bobbe White

ADULTIQUETTE- Sniglets for Couth, after Youth

(snig’-lit): n. A word, as defined by Rich Hall, American comedian, that doesn’t appear in the dictionary, but should. During his TV comedy series, Not Necessarily the News (1986-88), Sniglets became so popular, he wrote Sniglets, which has sold over 2 million copies. It’s my favorite.

sniglets

Example: Cinemuck. (cinna’-muk) n. def: Combination of popcorn, candy and soda on movie theater floors, that makes them sticky.  Here’s another: Blogorrhea (bloggo-ree’-uh) n- Compulsive, excessive, and/or meaningless ranting/raving by an individual on a blog. (Help! They won’t stop lately!)

If you’re from around Quincy, Illinois, you’ve heard of Tracy Schlepphorst’s popular children’s book, “Henry and His Manners.” Parents read this book to their children, including Tracy, who visits many classrooms to read. As you know, kids’ brains have a sponge-like quality. Just when you do something you hope goes unnoticed, they’ll call you on it. Everyone’s concerned that adult manners are disappearing from society. If our manners-read kids can’t keep us in line, I’ve created a few Sniglets, for this.  Here’s one, for gym rats, given our new year’s resolutions:

Athletiquette (ath-let-uh-ket) n. Manners for the gym. i.e. wiping sweat droplets off equipment and self, replacing equipment as found, not hogging equipment or butting in, between someone’s sets, picking up your locker room stuff and occasionally washing your gym clothes. I swear, some people are Noseblind. (The inability to smell something everyone else can).

Others from the “A, B, C and D” sections:

Achootiquette (ah-chu’-tuh-ket) Sneezing away from food and other humans, with a Kleenex, or arm, if possible.

Achootitootiquette (ah-chu’-ti-toot’-uh-ket) The act of sneezing out your front side, which simultaneously forces a particularly resonant toot, at Mach 3 speed and force, out your back side.  It happens; just say, “Oops…excuse me!” and move on. Or giggle. Whichever…

Batcheloretiquette (bach-el-or’-et-tuh-ket) Suppressing the urge to ask single women if they (a) have a boyfriend, (b)are engaged yet or (c) if they’re getting married or (d)whose wife are you? Just don’t. (Does Merlot match your outfit?)

Burpetiquette (birp-et-uh-ket) Owning and apologizing for a disruptive and voluminous belch, either expected, or unexpected.

Crackettiquette (krak’-ett-uh-ket)(See also: Plumbetiquette)The courtesy of buying your britches and a belt, in the correct sizes, so we don’t get the urge to throw a piece of ice down your backside when exposed to the light of day (or night.)

Discotetiquette (dis-co-tet’-uh-ket) Repressing the craving to croon every oldies song heard in public places. Sorry, but no one wants to hear your rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody or American Pie.

I won’t bore you with manners Sniglets, for the entire alphabet, (Yep, I did the whhhhhhole thing!), but I don’t want to catch blogorrhea.

Rich Hall, please, please, please create current Sniglets for America. There surely are things happening here that must be Sniglet worthy. In the meantime, if you’re still accepting Snigtributions (Contributions of Sniglets), here are mine, Rich, and I have more!

Readers: create and send your own Sniglets to me; I’ll include them next week!

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holidays Life balance

DON’T TOUCH THAT SEEK OR SCAN!

Don’t Touch That Seek or Scan!

Written by Bobbe White for WTAD.COM

Christmas Holiday isn’t everyone’s favorite –or happiest- time of the year, but there’s something remarkably intriguing about the music, which accompanies the season.

In the olden days –eight years ago- before Sirius, we used to dial in our favorite radio stations in our cars and homes. I think there’s still a dial, but it needs some WD40, seeing as nobody knows where it is. During Christmas we get to tap into Christmas past and feel the familiar emotion of those tunes. Some songs ALWAYS anchor memories, for example: sitting on my daughter’s bed, unpacking stuff in her sorority house, circa 2008, listening to “Game, Game, Game”, from Mamma Mia. I don’t know why exactly, but it does and always will.

The same thing happens with certain holiday songs. We’re magically transported back to a time, when the song hits a chord in our heads –or hearts-even if you or your family didn’t celebrate Christmas. Maybe your family –like ours- celebrated a secular Christmas. We were Jewish, but when you’re retail merchants, like my parents were, you still doll up the displays and the Musk (Google it) drums the Little Drummer Boy for weeks. And we can’t help but hum or sing along, regardless of our beliefs. Songs of the season tether our heads to our hearts.

Irving Berlin’s, “White Christmas” premiered on radio at Christmastime, in 1941, just 18 days after Pearl Harbor.  It was only when Armed Forces Radio began to play the song overseas, for American troops that images of the kind of Christmases back home became more memorable. 1942 was the first winter that American troops spent overseas. “White Christmas”, among other carols, spoke to the nostalgia and homesickness of Christmases past, as they longed for a return to home in particular; hope in general. Back home, sweethearts, wives, parents and families were trying to have a semi-normal holiday with hope, too.  It is said that the camaraderie and hopefulness of our troop’s enthusiasm, even in this dark period of history, propelled White Christmas to be a hit, and today it is still the most played Christmas song ever. It’s the glue that connects the past to the present, and the old to the young. Amazing. Never mind it only has 54 words; it both takes us back to a place – and propels us ahead with positive expectation. Never mind Irving Berlin was a Jewish immigrant from Russia. How many cool Christmases do you think he celebrated there? Uh, not many. But it works and it plays and we leave our radios on the station for the first time all year, every year, without surfing for something else. Each Christmas song celebrates a meaningful theme:

-One Horse Open Sleigh: friends and family gather together.

-It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year: regardless of belief, tell me you don’t feel the endorphins swimming when you see beautiful displays of lights around the city. Add snow and WHOA!

-Santa Claus is Coming to Town: kids believe that magically, somehow their wishes will be delivered. (Oh boy, the pressure is on the parents, ugh….)

-Feliz Navidad: even if you’re not Hispanic, you know what this means, and you know every word.  That’s integration and acceptance of the world differences, before it was even a top issue. Jose Feliciano. Haven’t thought of that name forever.  How do I still know this?

-Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Christmas Song. You don’t remember it? I’ll give you two hints:  hula hoop.

Jubilee. The art of celebration. A hopeful look to the future. An appreciation for the past. Songs let us possess these things forever.

This month, drive around your city, town or the countryside some night close to Christmas, find a Christmas station and I dare you to tell me you don’t feel a little something resembling hope and good will towards men, women and children everywhere.  Double-dog dare ya. It works, like magic!