Sunday, December 23, 2012
Monday, October 1, 2012
TAP. TAP. TAP.
IS THIS BLOG ON?
Lame Excuse #1: I lost my password for the blog and couldn't log in.
In Actuality: I lost my freakin' mind.
Lame Excuse #2: I could swear I'd received an email from someone saying that the Internet would be closed for....(we hear the rustling of pretend papers)...like, three months.
In Actuality: I lost my freakin' mind.
Lame Excuse #3: I've spent the past three months traveling around the world on my private jet with George Clooney and they don't allow computers in international air space.
In Actuality: This is completely, totally, 100% untrue.
Hello, my loves. How I've missed you!
I was gone so long, I was afraid to look. At my inbox (86 unread messages. 86!)...at the comments from my last spiderweb-laden, antiquated post. (I'm still annoyed that I had to lose the comments showing up on the main page. Hey! Maybe they've fixed that since I've been gone! Huh.)
I've worked. A lot. Now it slowed down...just a smidge...and I found myself thinking, "Remember when you wrote just for you? Oh and also for those poor, neglected subscribers on Kindle?? Remember???"
The most self-centered, egotistical thought just popped into my mind: "I can't imagine how they've survived without me."
Yikes. Did I just say that out loud? I promise you that I did not mean that....and I will seek therapy first thing in the morning.
Now I find myself wondering if there's an App for that. I mean, maybe I can just download a PDF and have Siri read me the riot act about taking people for granted while she sternly reminds me that, contrary to my innermost thoughts, I am not the center of the freakin' universe, all whilst I'm comfortably commuting to or from work, in my chariot. I mean, my car. You know, kind of a "get over yourself" book on tape? Surely iTunes must have that.
Siri! Set a reminder: Look into self-help book on part-time narcissism...'cause I'm not really all that bad. Oh and look up the meaning of the word DENIAL while you're at it.
I know you've all just plowed ahead...living your fabulous lives without me. I understand...really I do. I mean, what choice did you have?
I could say that I'm back for good (yeah, we've all heard that one), that I've got it from here (this song is getting old), that I miss each and every one of you with every fiber of my being (insert collective eye roll here, followed by a deep, affectionate sigh).
As I've come to realize, I am my own worst enemy.
But you've got to give me credit for tenacity...
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Monday, March 26, 2012
In the dream, I’m having a cocktail. This is precisely why I am unaware that this is a dream…everything seems perfectly normal. Then I happen to glance at a clock. It reads 1:00…and realization dawns. One o’clock? Like, in the afternoon?? Don’t I have a JOB? Oh and a KID. Oh, CRAP…did I leave Connor somewhere?? I grab my phone and try to dial but the numbers are all jumbled…and WTF is wrong with this freakin’ phone?! Then I hear the faint melody of a familiar song…and I’m straining to make it out. And I think, “Is that Foreigner?”
This is when I wake. My eyes focus on the red numerals projected onto my ceiling: 6:27. The volume of Foreigner’s “Urgent” is increasing…and I wonder (not for the first time) how the conversation must have gone around that brainstorming session when someone said, “We need to slowly increase the volume. Start off low…and work our way up to annoyingly loud. Too many morons are stroking out because they neglected to turn down the volume before they set the alarm.” I imagine everyone around the table nodding knowingly.
I stumble out of bed as I punch the button to silence the music. I start down the hall towards the heavenly aroma in the kitchen, vaguely aware of the sliver of light under Connor’s door that tells me he’s up and about…but I’m incapable of speech till I get that first sip of coffee.
On the return trip to my room, I knock on Connor’s door and take the responding grunt as an invitation to enter. It is not…but that doesn’t stop me from pushing open the door. He’s watching I Love Lucy and eating a bowl of Lucky Charms. I casually note that the milk has taken on an odd shade of purple.
Me: “I had that stupid dream again. You know, the one where I think I left you somewhere and my phone’s on acid.”
Connor: (Eyes never leaving the screen) “Huh.”
Me: “I always get this sense that I’m far away, like it’ll take half the day to get home.”
Me: “And I just know it’s a weekday and I’m missing work. But I can’t call anyone because of the trippy phone.”
Connor: “Cool story, Mom. Tell it again…”
Me: “Why are you still here at 6:52?”
And I watch his face. For a split second there’s panic, then his eyes settle on the actual time…prominently displayed on the cable box, right underneath Lucy. He has a full ten minutes left to go. His features relax and settle back into that look of 15-year-old boredom I’ve grown to accept….but I think I see a ghost of a smile on his lips.
Connor: “Way to go, Mom. That wasn’t very nurturing of you…”
And I roll my eyes in mock-exasperation as I’m pulling his door closed behind me…but not before muttering, “I have to pee. Have a good day.”
And he groans.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
I have chosen to own my silence.
Everyone has always been so kind to me here…regardless of my transgressions, which is very sweet considering I’m imagining you’re really thinking, “Geez. What a noodle. Honestly, I think her behavior is reprehensible…and she’s a bit of a dweeb.”
Wow. You guys are harsh.
I won’t bore you with all the crap that’s getting in the way of my blogging. Suffice to say, it’s ongoing and I’m doing my best to power through.
Nevertheless, I do have a story to share…complete with a moral and everything. Consider it my belated Christmas present to you all…or maybe an early birthday gift. Mazel Navidad, people.
So, it was a typical Sunday and I had just finished paying my bills online. Due to a somewhat unhealthy proclivity for waiting until the last minute, I usually wind up paying half my bills through the bank’s online bill pay and the other half directly on
Comcast’s Verizon’s American Express’ the company’s own website.
Whatever. Poe-tay-toh, poe-tah-toh. Either way it gets paid, right?
It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes after I’d logged off the computer that my phone rang. The ID gave an 800 number and I was annoyed that a business had the nerve to call me on a Sunday. This may explain why I barked, “WHAT?” instead of the customary “hello”. After a half-second delay, I heard a female automated voice say, “Hello. This is the Wells Fargo Fraud Alert Division of Wells Fargo Bank, notifying you of some unusual activity on your account ending in 9999. Please press #1 to continue.”
I press #1. My thoughts are racing. Crap, crap, crap. FRAUD. ALERT. This cannot be good.
The automated voice says, “First, we’ll need to verify your identity. Is your first name Kathryn? Press #1 if yes.” And I freeze. (Picture deer in the headlights…eyes wide…mouth shaped in the perfect “O”.)
My gut instinct is screaming, “HANG UP! SOMETHING’S WRONG. CRAAAAAAAP.” So, I punch the “end” button, severing the call.
Shocking. Outrageous. Appalling. Craaaaap…
The rep put a temporary freeze on my account and suggested I call the actual Fraud Hotline, which would not open until 8am Monday morning. (Interesting observation: The actual bank keeps banker's hours. That should have been my first clue.) The next day, I inquired as to how this sham could have occurred, given that I’d ensured I was on a secure site. The (actual) Fraud-bank-lady asked if I’d typed in the web address myself, or if I’d used “my favorites” to find the link. Evidently, hackers can worm their way into your PC and change your bookmarked favorites to go to their hacked site…one that looks just like the real deal…and then you are in some deep doodoo. (The “doodoo” part is me…bank-lady remained quite professional throughout.) After speaking further, we ascertained that the “account#9999” the automated voice had mentioned was, in fact, the last 4 digits of my debit card and not actually my account number. Bank lady saw no suspicious activity but suggested that I close out my account and open a new one…which I did, that very day. She also suggested that I always type in the web address myself to ensure I'm landing where I'm supposed to be.
The moral of this story?
A) Don’t pay anything online. Just put the bills in a drawer and wait for the company to knock on your door so you can pay them in person.
B) Never answer the phone on a Sunday.
C) Calling someone a “noodle” and a “dweeb” may result in charges of slander…and possible jail time.
D) Whenever an automated voice asks if your first name is Kathryn, always say no.
I believe the answer is “E”…all of the above. Either way, there's a lesson in there.
Talk soon, xo
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
I’m telling you up front that this New York gal's bucket-list would never include the desire to be on the receiving end of over a foot of snow and the loss of power for five days…and all this before the end of October.
We lost power on Saturday…around noon. I handled that with my usual aplomb…I remember sighing deeply and saying, “Really?? They said this was gonna happen. How utterly original,” to no-one in particular. Then I heard a disconnected voice...responding with, “What? Did you say something??”…and it was then that I realized that it was a snowstorm-miracle: Connor(14) with no-one else to talk to…was talking to me! I danced a little jig of victory, pumped my fists in the air and then coolly responded with, “…’Sup?”
We played cards. We played Trouble. We played Angry Birds. We played checkers. Then it got dark…and we got cold and bored. It was time for the power to return. Unfortunately, this was only day one…and it got worse. It seems the power loss also hit one of Verizon’s cell towers and we had no cellphone service.
So. Let's recap.We had:
- No electricity
- No heat
- No cable
- No landline (telephone)
- No internet
- No iPad
- No iPhone