random list

*We have two new RS Presidencies in our stake this month so we needed to have an orientation with the new gals. We decided a while back that this kind of a meeting isn't the most exciting, always goes longer than you'd think, and frankly everyone needs it, but nobody wants it. So we start ours out with a dinner.

There was one a while back where we were all so busy that we didn't have time to cook, so we ordered up Chinese and chatted it up over orange chicken and noodles. This dinner idea is a good one. The women who come are sometimes, not always, but sometimes intimidated or just plain overwhelmed. Seeing your 'leaders' eating a cheese enchilada has a way of relaxing people.

This last dinner meeting was so much fun. I got to meet up with a bunch of ladies I haven't seen in a while and I think we had more fun visiting than going over a list of do's and don'ts. One of the gals is a teacher, she had fabulous questions so the night went really fast.

I have been away from the house more than usual which has made the interior similar to that of an abandoned warehouse, except it's more like an abandoned 1500sf. E gads, the floor in the hall way looked like it had been carpeted with dryer lint. Partially because that is where the "laundry room" is, but also because we have just run it, done a few loads of laundry and headed out again without polishing the 'wood' (read laminate) floors and we haven't had Roomba plugged in for a while. (He goes back on duty today!) Under the dining room table looks just as fluffy, but with a stray dead leaf. Yeah. Appetizing.

*Ants. Wo Wo Wo unto the ants in this house! I am SO ticked (to use another insect for anger analogy) with these guys! I swear (I'm getting better about just doing that in my head, but still). We could have the kitchen counter smeared with marshmallow cream and they still would just randomly show up in the hall (which they did yesterday), the closet (what's in there?), Thor's desk (because bills are tasty?), or hanging out in the bathroom sink (yeah, I know, the whole water thing. But really; if they want water all that bad there is a neighbor who leaves his on all the freaking time!). We rarely have ants where you would expect them, but the whole of it is making me cranky. I have little black plastic ant traps everywhere. It's disgusting.

*I decided that I can't take the treadmill in the bedroom anymore. (I actually can't take a lot of what's in the bedroom anymore, but I can do something about the treadmill.) So I got it in my head that I could just move this and that and shove it into the girls' room where we already have the weight machine (and permanently set up ironing board - lovely, but I'm lazy.) and the twin bed for that single visitor (all other visitors fight over couches or -the winner- who gets to go to a hotel). So fate being what it is, I chose the day I wore my perfect white tee to do the move. No big deal, it folds; it has rollers.

O.k. So I clear the path from one room to the other, this baby is huge. I had to move a couple of books that stuck out too far in the hall book case, had to move said ironing board a few feet, put this over there, that over there and we're ready! I fold the machine and lock it and the tip the beast just enough to roll it. I SAID: TIP IT JUST ENOUGH TO ROLL IT! Good grief this thing weighs for thousand pounds and is stuck in those tiny but very deep carpet scars heavy objects make. UUUuuUuGGGhhh OOomph Oooohh uh oh! At this point I am making mental notes on how I am very happy no one is video taping this. Sweet mercy this is a bit more difficult than I antiscipated, but it's too late to stop now!

I make it the door, but too late to notice it is exactly 1.5 inches too wide to fit through. Seriously? Ugh. I think "o.k, I'll just roll it back into the bedroom and slide it through sideways." Well the machine only rolls one way. So I kind of have to power lift one end of the beast and twist it, drop it, lift the other end of the beast, twist it and drop it and lather rinse repeat about 15 times before I can wedge my tiny self between the beast and the door jam, which by the way rhymes very well with a perfectly good swear word right about now.

I get it turned around and begin the process all over again, in reverse, to get it out into the hallway. I get it to the other bedroom door and lather rinse repeat.

Inside the bedroom now I (inwardly begin to weep) realize my white tee shirt is no more. But I press on (because I am an idiot). I go back to the master bedroom to grab the floor mat that goes under the beast to catch any stray machine grease (too late, got all that on my white tee and new chinos). I mop it clean and set it down in the right spot. I am happy that the rollers will work! Yeah! Just roll it into place! Whew!

Well until I figure out that the rollers just wudge up the plastic mat into a thick plastic wave of doom. To remedy this I need to tip the beast back onto my self while I bend over enough to grab the plastic and keep it taut with one hand while I walk and balance the beast into place. Yes, this creates a beautiful visual; although I do feel like Mr. Incredible after I am done.

I get it where it needs to be and plug it in. The phone rings. It's my daughter in law who wants to know what I am doing (Is she watching through the windows?). "Just cleaning today" "You want an excuse to stop?" I knew I loved this girl the minute I laid eyes on her. We go to Target. Frankly, if she wanted me to go anywhere it would have been a great idea at that point!

*My two nephews (twins) went through the temple for the first time last night prior to leaving for their respective missions (one to the "South side of Chicago, to the baddest part of town..." Well perhaps not, but South Chicago, Spanish. and the other to Germany/Austria). That was great. A beautiful night to be there with family and friends and to fill up the temple with people we love and respect. These two young men are awesome.

*Our #3 is moving today. This is the third move this year. For some reason my daughters like moving. Not really, they just have a habit of doing it a lot. I am glad for this move. She has her first 'off the desert' job with a "nice" dentist and a fabulous apartment in a great area. Plus she gets to live alone for the first time. If she gets a roommate, she'll be the land lord. She gets to make the decisions, it will be her "house". I am happy for her. Being the alpha roommate has perks the lesser roommate does not. Furniture, temperature level, closet space, etc. She has paid her dues, it's her turn now! I would (most seriously) love to live in that building where she lives, it's a great place all around. Almost perfect SoCAL location for S'mee. She wouldn't be so happy to have us there, but when or if she moves out...hmmm, maybe I can talk Thor into that!

The big bonus is this building has an elevator! Thor and the brothers are thrilled to hear this. Her last move (well and the one today moving out) had those really cool exterior stairs that have about 6 steps, a landing, a turn, and then another 6 steps and a landing. For one level you had to turn three times. She lives 6 landings up. (plus there are five stairs down to the common area, then across the grounds and another five stairs up to the parking lot. These people are stair freaks) Not fun for the movers. Thor asked if he could just throw the stuff out the bedroom window and replace what was broke after the fall with new stuff. If you know Thor at all, this is a clear indication of just how horrid the stairs are. He is giddy about an elevator.

*It's only 10:00 a.m., but all I can think of is some B&R's chocolate chip ice cream. I think I'll call my daughter in law and see what she's doing for lunch.

It's a new day.

Like I mention in previous posts, Thor and I married young, in 1976. In all those years we have lived a few different places. Our first place was in a smallish town near the big city. We had little finances to play with so we lived in a tiny apartment in an "o.k." neighborhood. Things went well. Yes we had a murder in the field next to our complex, yes, there was a rape and a few burglaries in the area before we moved. But all in all it was home.

We moved back to our home town just minutes before our first born made his entrance into the world. That apartment was also in an exciting neighborhood. The gal across the sidewalk was a late night worker if you know what I mean. She would set her two toddlers out on the porch while she "entertained" her gentlemen friends, then scoop them up and put them back to bed once the guys left. Kids would riffle through the dumpsters, a house across the street was robbed once, and well, it was home.

Our first "real" house was in another small town. We were the only house on the block for a bit, well us and the strange family across the street. Eventually other houses would be built and folks would move in. Families like the one on the corner where, if you knew about it, you could score some pot. One night the police came to our door in search of "evidence", seems one of the neighbors made another neighbor mad and they fought in our front yard. Someone lost a finger and well, there you go. Good times.

We moved from that house and into an in-law's. We baby-sat that house for a while during their out of state move. A nice house with a huge floor plan and a pool. And evidently a large neon sign that said "Please take any vehicles left in the drive way!" Our one and only car was stolen. Oh well, we liked the pool!

Then we moved to the place we are in now. The second year we were here the house behind ours, kitty-corner, ended up being a crack house. The house across the street had a parolee, and the house down a ways was occupied by a habitual wife beater. Actually beat the tar out of his wife right in our front yard with the kids (ours and theirs) watching.

Still in all those years, all those homes, all that "fun" we never felt the need to lock a door. It was a joke actually. Anyone who knew us would exchange horrified looks when we told them to just come in if they needed to drop off something while we were out. We would leave for vacations and never lock a door. We would come home after long days and find a kid asleep on our couch, not our kid, just someone's friend who knew we were a safe place to rest until their parents could pick them up.

Last Saturday Thor went down to Lowes, laid down $145.00 and brought home a deadbolt and new knob for the door. It's a first folks. Never since I was 18 have I lived anywhere I felt unsafe. But the robberies are happening with regularity and during the daylight hours, and with just moments to spare as far as timing. You leave the house, someone breaks in and by the time you get back from the grocery store everything is ransacked.

Don't get me wrong. For years we both felt it was much better to allow someone to come in and steal what they felt they needed and walk away. Heck, what have we got that is all that great to begin with? Not much. An old piano, an out of date t.v. with a big yellow dot here and another green dot over there. A radio that still plays cassette tapes along with the c.d., and two computers, one with Vista, so you know no one wants that one! Still it's the thought that these robbers trash the place while they search. grrr.

I don't much care if someone takes my "things" just do it with out making me have to replace all the stuff you leave as well. So we have locks now. I hate locks. I hate feeling unsafe. I hate being somewhere I know my neighbors lay in wait to abuse my good nature. I am not a huge fan of creepy people as neighbors.

What to do? What to do? Not much. All we can do is what we have done. Try to make it difficult and harder for our house to break into than someone else's on our block. Great. I feel like "Hey don't rob us, rob our neighbor, cause they didn't protect themselves as well as we have!" Yah, now I'm hoping someone else gets it before we do. ugh. So we now bolt the doors, lock the windows and pray a lot. I went and made a key for each of the kids and there you go. Now we are like everyone else on the planet. Cynical and wary. I hate being wary. It makes me weary.

something to think about...

With annual sales of more than $250 billion, Wal-Mart netted $9.1 billion in 2003 profits, more than twice the profits of its leading retail competitors combined, according to the company's most recent annual reports. Wal-Mart CEO H. Lee Scott received a double-digit pay increase in 2003, his salary and bonus payments jumping by 26 percent over the previous year. Including the value of stock received, Scott's pay package soared to $12.44 million. But many of his 1.3 million Wal-Mart employees are paid so poorly they can't even afford health insurance.
Wal-Mart’s employees—more than 70 percent of them women—are paid an average $9.64 an hour if they are full-time employees, according to Business Week. Yet full-time workers, who comprise only about two-thirds of Wal-Mart's workforce, may be scheduled for as few as 34 hours weekly. Even at $9.64 hourly, working 34 hours a week, a Wal-Mart employee earns only $17,043 annually, well under the $18,850 federal poverty guideline for a family of four in 2004.
While 66 percent of workers at large U.S. firms get health coverage on the job, fewer than half of Wal-Mart workers do, an October 2003 AFL-CIO report finds.
Wal-Mart's virulent anti-union policies prevent workers from winning family-supportive wages and benefits. Unionized workers in the retail food industry make more than 30 percent more in hourly wages than their nonunion counterparts, according to a 2002 report by the Institute for Women's Policy Research. Yet when new employees start at Wal-Mart, they must first watch a video warning them against joining a union, according to author Barbara Ehrenreich, who chronicled her experience working at Wal-Mart in Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting by in America.
By keeping its workers in poverty, Wal-Mart also impoverishes entire communities: When many residents have less to spend on goods and services, they can't support community merchants—and everyone's income and spending eventually drops.
Big-box retailers and supercenters such as Wal-Mart transform family-supporting, middle-class retail jobs into lower-paying jobs that often leave workers unable to pay bills.
With big-box retailers and supercenters tending to convert communities' union-scale retail jobs to fewer, lower-paying retail jobs, the difference in overall compensation, including wages and benefits, is "as much as $8 an hour," according to an October 2003 report prepared for the city of Los Angeles.
For every $1 wage cut, the local economy loses a total $2.08 as less money circulates through the local economy. If union grocery workers' wages were slashed to match the wages of Wal-Mart workers, their communities would lose between $1.6 billion and $3 billion annually.
If Wal-Mart paid each employee $1 an hour more, it could maintain its profitability level by increasing prices a mere half penny per dollar.

report copied from aflcio.org