Lisa Gerardy's Blog, page 28

Hermit Flavored Shark Food

Let’s face facts.  When I’m not going all Flashdance in my Hobbit Dance Studio, or venturing out in to the cold, crazy, people-filled world just to buy soap, I’m here on my couch watching TV.  Last night, since it was FREEZING out, and since it was Friday night, my husband and I watched Shark Tank, a show we’ve recently discovered even though it’s been on for four years.

As I was watching, my palms were sweating for the contestants who were pitching their ideas to the “Sharks.”  For those of you who leave your homes to go out with other humans on Friday evenings, Shark Tank is a show in which people with business ideas try to persuade a panel of rich people to invest in their businesses.   I cannot imagine EVER appearing on the show.  Aside from the fact that I would have to put on real pants, probably without an elastic waist, get on a PLANE, and go to a super crowded city, I would also have to try to persuade other humans.  I’m terrible at sales pitches because I am apathetic and I hate to talk a lot.  This is why I was always in arrears when I worked at Macy’s in 1990.  I could not even sell enough to cover my small salary. So, there’s that.

As I was falling asleep last night, I tried to imagine myself in front of the Sharks.  Since I don’t manufacture anything other than words, I guess I would seek money to promote my blog and my novel.  In my imagination, my segment on Shark Tank would go something like this.

I walk into the Shark Tank room with my usual resting bitch face, and my arms crossed in front of my stomach, which has started to spasm in response to my being nervous.  Thanks, IBS.

Robert would then ask me, “What’s wrong, Lisa? You look upset.”

I would answer, “No, I just have resting bitch face and Virgo stomach.  You know, you’re a Virgo, too.”

Robert would look alarmed and say, “No. I mean, how do you know that I am a Virgo? What does that even mean?”

“Um, I just like to Google people.  My husband says I’m a stalker…” Then, I would do that barking cough laugh thing because I would have nervous cottonmouth.  I would close my mouth to try to preserve moisture.

Daymond would take over for the now frightened Robert.  “Lisa, what is your product?  I don’t see anything up there.”

I would look around as though I were perplexed about this, too. “Um, I write.  I mean, I’m a writer, and I don’t really make money at that. You could like put a picture of my novel on some FUBU shirts though.”

Daymond looks down, and shakes his head.  Barbara jumps in. “What type of investment are you looking for?”

I would answer, “Um, I was thinking cash would be good. I could take a check, too.”  I uncross my arms and run my right hand over my hair at this point. Now, we are getting somewhere.

Barbara disagrees.  “I meant how much money.”

“Oh, I don’t know.  I just need like a bazillion dollars to publicize my blog and book. I just want to have a life like Stephen King or The Bloggess.”

The Sharks look at each other.  Clearly, they do not understand the desire to live a life filled with writing and napping. I look down at the floor, wondering if it is hard wood or plastic.  I move my feet out a bit to maintain my balance because I am starting to feel dizzy.  I did not eat before coming on the show due to the stomach pains. I hear a couple of snickers; at least I think I do.  My tinnitus gets worse with stress.

Kevin speaks, his voice breaking through the crickets and bringing me out of my floor staring trance.  “What kind of stake are you offering?”

MMMMM.  Steak.  I would give the confused dog look and say, “probably medium rare. I mean, that way it’s cooked but still juicy.”

Lori would speak up while the rest of the Sharks laughed.  “No, honey.  He means what portion of your business are you giving in exchange for the bazillion dollars.”  Lori does air quotes when she says bazillion.  The Sharks laugh more.

I cross my arms again, and take a step backwards.  I hate it when people call me honey. “Oh stake.  Um I don’t know, like some percentage or something. And you don’t have to be snotty.  I have a Master’s in English not Math.”

Mark laughs so loud that he coughs. Lori looks a bit uncomfortable, but she keeps talking.  “What are you going to do with the money?”

I roll my eyes at this point.  What a stupid question.  “I’m going to use it to live on while I write.  I could also buy ads. I want more people to read my blog because it’s funny, if you have a sense of humor.  Laughter is the best medicine, and if more people laugh it might solve the healthcare crisis.” There.  I finally gave them a solid answer.

Mark stops laughing and brings up the P-word.  He asks if I have a patent?

I shake my head and look at him like he is an idiot.  “No, but I’m the only me.  Why would I need a patent?”  These people are supposed to be smart?

Mark replies,  “Lisa, I looked at your blog before you came out.  Plump middle-aged cat lovers are not really rare, you know.”

This irritates me.  “Are you calling me old and fat? What do you mean there are other short, chubby crazy cat ladies? You know what, Mark Cuban? I just don’t like you. And why is your last name a nationality?  I’m not Lisa IrishScottishwithatouchofFrench.”

With this, all of the Sharks start laughing.  Two of them spit water on themselves in the process.  I stomp off of the stage as I hear someone say “out.”  These people will be sorry when The Lizard King Club is made into a movie.  Suckers.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: introverts, Shark Tank, writers

Hobbit Dance Studio

I’ve never read The Hobbit, but I’m going to start today because my son pointed out that I AM a Hobbit. He said, “Mom, Hobbits like to sit in their armchairs, and read and eat. They don’t like to go out on adventures because it takes them away from their books.  Plus, they eat second breakfast.” I think he’s on to something. After all, Hobbit almost sounds like Hermit, and I love to just sit, read, and eat.  This is why it defies all logic that I joined a  Diet Bet game  during the holidays, or anytime really.  What the heck was I thinking?

Well, honestly, I thought it would be easy because my husband had UPPP surgery on December 17.  For more about that, read this.  So, I figured that I would just eat a lot of soup right along with Chris.  This didn’t happen, of course. Whenever I think about dieting, I eat more.  Plus, there’s that whole hating exercise thing, and not liking people.  We introverts don’t like the gym because it involves people and chitchat.  Also, my fellow germaphobes and I look at the machines as though we have blacklights for eyes.  We can see the viruses dancing on the handlebars of bikes, weights, and elliptical machines.  Nope.  We Hobbit/Hermits must exercise at home.

I have always liked to dance.  In fact, I wanted to be a Browardette at South Broward High School, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask my parents for the large sum of money needed. From what I heard, Browardettes had to pay for a ton of things like, special bras, at least four outfits, camp travel costs, makeup, etc. So, I did the next best thing; I took two years of dance classes as PE electives.  I miss dance, and not only because I met one of my best friends in class.  I would love to take dance classes now, but I can’t find a jazz dance class for people older than 6.  It seems that older folks are supposed to take ballroom dancing, which doesn’t really interest me.  I want to dance alone, to good music. Since I don’t want to make the little kids or their parents uncomfortable by joining a kid class, I came up with my own solution.

I have heard of people having kitchen dance parties, but my kitchen is too small.  Also, since we have adopted three cats and two dogs, there’s usually anywhere from one to five animals begging for food at any time. Seriously, they act like they are starving to death. I’m surprised they haven’t figured out how to use the phone and call the Humane Society for help. So, unless I want to trip over a Great Dane and die from a granite countertop induced head injury, I can’t dance in the kitchen.  The bathroom, though, has potential.

My dance studio

I live in a five level split home.  Basically, the five levels are divided by half flights of stairs.  So, from the outside, the house looks like your average two-story home.  So, long story short, I have stairs in my bathroom.  There are five steps that go from the large master bathroom to a “bonus room” that I use for my office.  It’s big enough for dancing, and it has stairs for my own version of step aerobics.   A couple of weeks ago, at the beginning of this whole Diet Bet thing, I put my headphones on, turned the volume up to eleven, and jammed out to some eighties tunes while doing the grapevines and spins that I learned way back in dance class at South Broward.  I have been doing this about three times a week ever since.  I may not win on So You Think You Can Dance, but I can burn calories without talking to strangers or touching shared exercise equipment.   I call that a win-win.

If you like to dance, I hope you all get to have at least one dance party today, in whatever room works for you.  Happy New Year!

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Dance, exercise, Hermit, Hobbit, Introvert

Drowning in a Sea of Blue Gingham

I need an outfit made of this.

I’m pretty sure that online shopping was invented for me and my fellow introverts.  For us, going to the mall in the middle of a weekday is torture, never mind on a weekend, like today.  My husband and I were just going to return a sweater to J. Jill and have some lunch.   My husband also wanted to stop by Bath and Body Works to get more foamy hand soap.   I love things that smell good, so I agreed to go with him.  Big mistake.  Bath and Body Works is having their SEMI-ANNUAL SALE, which means a lot of frigging people were in the store.  People.

And by people, I’m not just talking about shoppers, and there were tons of those.  There were also approximately 9,582 salespeople in blue aprons on duty. Everywhere I turned, someone was telling me about things that were 75% off, or things that were buy 2 get 1 free.  They were asking if they could help me find something when I was trying to read the labels on the various foamy soaps. There was nothing but chatty people and conversations about numbers.  It was an introverted English major’s nightmare.

I can read!!

Obviously, I could never work at Bath and Body Works, or anywhere where you have to approach other humans and talk.  This, along with the fact that I don’t like to wear pants with real waistbands, is why I work online. (I have no idea how I used to do stand-up comedy.) Just for fun, I tried to imagine the meeting that happened before the store opened.  I pictured a middle-aged woman, in a blue apron, who smelled like a mixture of Velvet Sugar and Japanese Cherry Blossom, standing in front of 9,500, or so, sales girls (I have yet to see a male sales person in Bath and Body Works) in a small, back room filled with blue gingham bags and boxes.  Her pep talk would go something like this:

OK ladies!! Listen up!  Yesterday we sold 580,997 dollars in lotions alone, but we can do better.  You have to be PERKIER ladies!  We have a Starbucks two stores down from us, and a Teavana  a little bit down from that.  CAFFEINATE! Snort the espresso grounds if you have to!  Go up to every person that comes through that door.  Tell them about the 3 for 2. Offer to let them sample things.  EVERY PERSON.  If you get too shaky from the grounds, huff the Eucalyptus Bath Salts, I mean Soak.  It’s a SOAK now. DO NOT call it BATH SALTS, not after that whole face-eating thing.  It’s in the bathroom behind the Sexy Dahlia Rush spray.

They must have listened to her because they were everywhere.  I felt like I was drowning in a sea of blue gingham.  I thought maybe I should have WORN head to toe blue gingham, with matching face paint, like some kind of Bath and Body Works camo.  That way I could have just shopped in peace without all of this “help.” I wanted to get in fetal position by the candle wall and scream,  “STOP TALKING TO ME!  I can READ the signs and labels!  Leave me alone; I just want to buy soap!!”

It was total sensory overload.  Not only was there SO MUCH NOISE from all of the TALKING, there were too many scents.  Enchanted Orchid was mixing with Party Dress (Wouldn’t that smell like sweat and spilled vodka?), and Espresso Bar was competing with both of them for storage space in my nostrils, thus suffocating me as much as the constant attention from the Gingham Army.

So NOT a BBW

After this scary experience, my husband and I went to Molly Woo’s for a late lunch.  It was not crowded and they have a bar.  Win win.  So, like a lot of people, I wanted to post a picture of my beverages on Instagram.  I thought it would be amusing since I ordered hot tea and a shot of vodka.  It’s medicinal; don’t judge me.  Anyway, I asked my husband what the hash tag for Bath and Body Works was since he used to work for the parent company.  He told me BBW. So, I put #BBW on my picture of a teapot, teacup, and highball glass.  You guys, #BBW is so NOT Bath and Body Works.  I did a search on Instagram, just to check, and I saw a lot of shots of voluptuous women in bikinis.  I quickly learned that it means “big, beautiful women.”  Who knew? I think my curvier sisters are beautiful and all; I just feel bad for the guy who did that hash tag search after I posted my pic.  Sorry about that!

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Bath and Body Works, BBW, introverts, Shopping

#XmasJammies — Ten Years Later

#xmasjammies

Like most introverts, I spend a lot of time thinking, and sometimes, I come up with some weird stuff.  This morning, after breakfast, I made my husband and son watch this viral Christmas Jammie video. If you haven’t seen it yet, you probably don’t have the Internet, or cable, or eyes, because EVERYONE, like MILLIONS of people, has watched this video.  Go ahead. Click on the link if you haven’t seen it.  You will need to know the tune for what comes next.

So, after we watched the #XmasJammie video, I started to wonder what will happen to the #XmasJammie video Holderness family after the stress from all of this Internet fame gets to them.  I told my husband what crazy dysfunctional Christmas Jammie images I had going through my head, and since he is the perfect husband for me, he started to help me come up with more material.  So, friends, I bring you the lyrics to Christmas Jammies 2023.  Please note that Penn (Dad) is doing all of the “singing.”

Here I am, what a sight to see, dancing around in my jammies.

You saw me in stripes, in 2013, well things have really changed, you see.

Penn Charles fathered three babies, all at the age of thirteen.  In his Christmas Jammies, well maybe not IN Christmas Jammies.

Now he has to pay child support, or he will end up in court, where you can’t wear Christmas Jammies.  Now, he buys his baby mamas’ Christmas Jammies.

Since we told her she could sing, Lola was rejected on American Idol by Randy.

Lola got rid of the rainbows, and lives like a sloth. She wears all black and became Goth.  No more Christmas Jammies. Lola cut her Christmas jammies.

Mom gave birth to baby three even though I had a vasectomy. Now she lives with Robert Downey.  They wear silky Jammies, Hollywood style Christmas Jammies.

After a while, Mom’s Botox wore off; she gained a few and she isn’t so hot.  She’s got Christmas jammies, much bigger Christmas jammies.

Working with my wife, and her thing for Robert Downey, ruined our matrimony.  Now, I have a divorce decree, and nicer Christmas jammies, not those goofy Christmas jammies.

My apologies to the Holderness family for that bit of craziness.

Thank you for inspiring my husband and I to have a few good laughs today. 

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: #xmasjammies, Christmas, Holderness, introverts, sarcasm, visitthegreenroom.com

Jehovah Stoppers

BACK!!

Well, if you have read this blog, or this blog, you know that like most introverts, I am a tad bit irritated with people who pound on my door to sell me anything, be it products or religion.  And yes, Jehovah’s Witnesses, you are indeed soliciting even if you are not accepting money (I have an inside source).  See ye olde dictionary for more details.  

While I don’t like solicitation calls, pushy sales people in stores, or overly eager acquaintances who just drop by, I really, really loathe it when people pound on the door to save my soul.  My soul and I are just fine.  How about yours; have you helped anyone today?  Anyway, in talking with others who also don’t want religious people showing up at their door, I have acquired a handy-dandy little list of Jehovah stoppers.   Here they are, in no particular order:

Answer the door nude.  I’m not likely to do this one as I am usually cold, and covered in two or three layers.  By the time I got everything off, they would already be running.  HMMM. Well, that would solve the problem.
Answer the door holding a large butcher knife (or OJ knife as we call it here in the cat lady house), with some sort of meat blood, and maybe a little bit of raw meat on it.  It helps to be wearing a robe, too.  Tell the door-knockers, “You’re just in time.  Do you want to help me sacrifice the goat?”  I’ve been told that it works like a charm.
Say you have been “disfellowshipped.”  My anonymous inside source tells me that they are not allowed to talk to you if you have been shunned.  You have to use the d-word though, so keep it on a sticky note near the door.
Say you are Jewish.  Apparently, according to the Jehovah’s witnesses, you are a lost cause, and may have horns on your head, if you don’t think of Jesus as the Son of God AND you avoid pork products.  Honestly, you’ve got to be evil if you are not eating bacon, right? I finally purchased a Menorah this year (I plan to blog about why I have always wanted to be Jewish soon), so maybe I will just keep it out year-round and hold it up to the JW’s when they knock. I wonder if they will run from it like the vampires run from crosses in movies.
Know the Bible and debate with them.  They will entertain you for a few minutes, but I am told that they leave quickly if they know that you know what you are talking about.

That’s all I have for you for now.  Please feel free to comment with more religion repellant methods.  As your token hermit friend, I have made it my life’s mission to avoid unexpected “guests” of all sorts.  Peace out and Happy Holidays!

 

 

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: introverts, Jehovah's Witnesses, Solicitation

Paying it Forward, Hermit Style

A lot of people who do not understand introverts may think of us as hateful.  They think that if we don’t want to be surrounded by people every second of the day, we must hate people.  This is not true. Remember: as introverts, we don’t hate people; we just hate talking to them.  There is a difference. Let’s face it; we hermits don’t like to socialize a lot because we are THINKING. We are trying to cure cancer and invent a Star Trek-like beaming device to replace air travel.  At least, that is what I spend my time thinking about.  Oh, and cats.  I think about cats a lot. So, being solitary, quiet creatures, we aren’t likely to help build a house with Habitat for Humanity, or work in a soup kitchen.  Those things involve being around other people, for hours, or days, or longer.  Most of us DO want to help others, though.  The good news is that there are nice things that we can do for others from a distance.

It’s easier to go out and do something helpful, if you are already out anyway.  Last Friday, the 13th, I went to Five Below, which is way better than any dollar store, to donate to Toys for Tots.  I got the inspiration to do this from my friend Tasha on Facebook.  Since Facebook is my social life for the most part, I tend to be on there daily.  Anyway, my friend posted about how she and her family received presents from Toys for Tots when she was a kid.  This brought tears to my eyes and energy to my body.  I wasn’t planning to leave the house, but after reading Tasha’s post, I looked online for the closest Toys for Tot drop off box.  It just so happens that I was planning to go to Five Below, the closest place, some time soon to shop for stocking stuff for my son.  So, I was able to take care of an errand AND donate toys.  When I got there, the clerk told me that they were no longer collecting for Toys for Tots, but they were collecting for the toy drive for the local fire department.  I donated two toys and got some awesome stocking stuffers.   Win-win.

For some reason, every year, I forget to tip the mail carrier.  I can remember my mom putting McDonald’s gift certificates in the mailbox when I was a kid.  So, this year, since I was at Five Below anyway, I bought some cute Santa cash cards.  As soon as I got home, I put some money in the card and stuck it in the mailbox, with the flag up.  Then, I worried that he may want to ring the doorbell and say thank you.  As you may know, I HATE it when people ring the doorbell.  This sends the dogs into a tizzy, and one of the dogs weighs 70 pounds.  It is impossible to answer the door and hold them both back.  So, when I saw the mail truck coming down the street, I went up to my son’s room and put his laundry away. (Yes, I put my 16 year-old son’s laundry away.) The doorbell never rang.  I’m not sure if I was relieved or disappointed.

I usually forget about my UPS delivery person, too.  With my Amazon addiction, I SHOULD tip the guy who lugs my packages to the porch, and sometimes inside my house.  So, like the mail carrier, my UPS guy got a Santa envelope with two twenties inside.  I was able to hand it to him as he was carrying my packages in the front door.  Since my husband and I saw the truck, we were able to grab both dogs before they went flying out of the house.  He was thrilled said thank you at least three times.   He even attempted to pet the crazy jumping dogs.

Back when we lived in Indiana (I really need to blog about my tour of duty in Fort Wayne), my husband and I were secret Santas to a woman we really didn’t even like much.  She is my son’s friend’s mother.   She ended up losing her job right before the holidays.  My son came home from school telling me about how his friend was living on Ramen noodles and free lunch at school.  Now, keep in mind, he was not allowed to spend time with this friend, a really nice boy, out of school because the friend’s mom believed my son to be gay.  So, she told her son that he was not allowed to hang out with my son.  Um, first of all, my son is not gay.  Second of all, that is a really ignorant thing to say.  Did she think her son was going to “catch the gay” from my son?  Plus, of course, she was super religious, and we all know that Jesus hates gay people, right?  I’m being sarcastic here.  Anyway, even though we did not like this woman, we felt bad for her and her kids.  So, we sent some anonymous Walmart gift cards.  To this day, I don’t think she knows that that gay kid’s parents sent her the cards.

Last year, my husband, son, and I went out to dinner at a local Big Boy restaurant.  As we were eating our fries and burgers, we noticed a large family sitting in the next section.  There were a few children with this family, but my husband and I immediately noticed one child in particular.  To this day, I don’t know if the kid was a boy or a girl.  The child was completely bald, like chemo bald, and we didn’t want to stare, but we couldn’t help but notice.  We just wanted to help, some how. So, we asked the manager for their check.  We paid it, and got the heck out of there.   One free dinner didn’t make their child healthy, but that is all we could think to do.

I’m not telling you all this to brag about what a wonderful and caring individual I am.  I just wanted to share some ways that you can help others without really being around others.  I fully understand that there are some of us out there who would just rather not be around gobs of people, but still want to help.  Happy Holidays, everyone!

 

 

 

 

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Hermits, Holidays, introverts, Pay it forward, Secret Santa, Toys for Tots

The MOST SOCIAL Time of a Hermit’s Year

I’m sorry it has taken me so long to post again.  I’m still recovering from last weekend when people at THREE different parties surrounded me and talked.  I had to struggle to listen because, A. I have the hearing of an 80 year-old (no offense to the elderly folks out there with good hearing), and B. I am an introvert and I am busy inventing things in my head like laser printing apps for the iPhone (I don’t know how to make this a reality; it’s just something I thought of). By recovering, I’m not referring to anything alcohol related.  I’m talking about reenergizing from talking to actual humans.  As I may have told you, we introverts lose energy from social interaction.  Still, I enjoyed getting my holiday cheer on, and I have the pictures to prove it. Here are the parties, in chronological order.

Thursday — The Husband’s Work Party

I love a good Cosmo.

This party was at Park Cantina, a place I had not been to before. It’s a Mexican place, and I like Mexican food.  So, I packed my gluten and dairy digestive enzymes, and I was ready to party. The world was not going to cooperate with this, though. First, it was raining, and we had to drive on the highway through rush hour traffic. It was scary, and it took forever. I haven’t blogged about this yet, but I had a horrific accident on the highway, in the rain, during rush hour, when I was 6 months pregnant with my son.  Highway driving in general makes be nervous, and we had the trifecta on our way to the party.  My husband was driving, so I closed my eyes and did some deep breathing. I’m sure he loved this.

Needless to say, by the time we got there, and walked two blocks in the cold rain from the parking garage to the restaurant, I needed a drink.  Since my husband’s company gave us handy bracelets with three drink marks on them, I stepped up to the bar and asked if it was “only beer or wine or could I have a real drink.” I actually said that.  The bartender said I could have whatever I wanted.  I ordered a top shelf Cosmo.  I ended up having two.  I should’ve had one.  My tolerance is low, and there was not much food.  Don’t worry.  This will not turn into a puke story.  You can keep reading.

So, like I said, it was a Mexican place, so I was thinking burritos, quesadillas, you know, the usual.  Instead, there was lots of raw veggies, some sliders, and some chicken on a stick.  Oh, yeah, and a platter of cubed cheese, but I didn’t have any cheese because the woman in line in front of me brought a cube of cheese up to her nose, sniffed it, and THEN PUT IT BACK ON THE PLATTER.  WTH, Cheese-sniffing Woman?

Saturday — The Ugly Sweater party

I love this poncho-wearing man.

Every year, my friend and her husband throw an ugly sweater party.  My husband and I just love this family, and we go to everything they invite us to, if we can.  Last year, when I was in the boot cast, I still went to the Ugly Sweater party.    While it was fun, and the food was yummy, like most parties, it was one of those people overload situations for me.  So, we left early. Apparently, there was an ugly sweater competition at this party, but I was too geriatric to stay that late to see it. This year, we ended up talking to some of the same people we chatted with last year.  They all seemed like a lot of fun, even though I know for sure I said a few inappropriate things that made people’s faces twitch.  I do that a lot.  When you don’t get out much, you tend to lose that ability to know if you are truly saying something out loud because you rarely say anything out loud.  It’s like you develop a case of Sheldon Cooperism.

Sunday — The Wine Party

Chilling with Orange

One of my husband’s friends is a wine collector.  So, we had no idea what to bring to the party that he and his wife were hosting.  We couldn’t bring wine, like we normally do.  So, we stopped at Earth Fare, and picked up some brie, crackers, and cupcakes.   We were the first ones to arrive.  As Chris got our brie and crackers on to plates, I stood around trying not to get in the way because I’m useful like that.  Then, when the couple’s cat jumped up to sit on a bench near the dining room table, I figured I had better sit near him as he sort of eyeballed the food.  Finally, I felt useful.  That was my way of helping — keeping the food safe from feline invasion.  Also, as you may know if you have ever read this blog, I like to hang out with cats. Orange, the host cat, is an older gentleman, but new to the household.  He used to live outside, but our friends recently adopted him.  He’s got a good life now, complete with tuxedo collar.  I’m not sure if you can see this in the picture.

I loved getting out and wearing sweaters.  Oh, and of course, I really loved visiting with Orange, even if Andre was pissed when I got home.  Still, I’m looking forward to not having plans this weekend.  I may be ready for people again in a month or so.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: cats, Christmas, introverts, parties, Ugly Sweater

Raising a Rock Star

Sergio, singing Photo Cred: J. Reed

My son is the type of person who would NEVER call himself a rock star.  He is and will be a musician. To say that I am proud of my son would be like saying I love staying home with my cats.  It’s an obvious understatement.  My son has not always been the easiest child (there was that time in 8th grade where I was convinced he was trying to kill me with stress), but he hasn’t been the toughest either.  During times when he was being especially stubborn, I would tell myself that Donald Trump probably did not kowtow to everything his parents said.  I doubt Eddie and Alex VanHalen did either. 

I think I know how Mr. and Mrs. Van Halen felt while raising their boys.  It’s a combination of pride and fear.  It’s not easy to guide a creative person.  I’m proud of him for his talent and his character, but I fear a lot of things about the world of musicians, like drugs, alcohol, gold diggers, and poverty.  I’m a mama lion, but I can’t protect him from everything. I can only hope that his head continues to stay on straight, and that he keeps away from things that will take his focus off of making music, the thing he has wanted to do since fourth grade.

My son has never had a plan B. There was never a time when he said, “Well, if I’m not a musician, I will be an accountant,

Sergio’s first acoustic guitar

or teacher, or fireman.”  Never.   Since the age of 10, so 6 years now, he has wanted to be a musician.  That is when he saved money and bought his first electric guitar.  He very politely asked if we could pay for lessons since he bought the guitar himself.  Of course, we did.  Through the years, he has also taken drum and vocal lessons, and he has purchased more guitars.  He has never learned to read music, but he has written a few songs, including this one, Peacemaker, which was just released on Friday. 

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First “drum” set

My son’s band, Alone at Dawn, is a metal band, but a melodic metal band.  Their first song, Peacemaker, is one that people of all ages have liked so far.  By all ages, I mean from about 13 to 45.  I don’t think people in their 70’s will jam out to it, but they might enjoy the more melodic parts.  If you want to check them out, you can LIKE Alone at Dawn here. That’s the link to their FaceBook page.  They will be posting more information and songs there.  I’m told there will also be pictures of the fellas soon.   For now, you will have to be satisfied with the lovely photos I have posted here.

Sergio’s first public performance, the summer after 8th grade.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Alone at Dawn, metal, musicians, parenting, vanhalen

Giving Back to the Jehovah’s Witnesses

If you have read this blog before, you may have figured out that I spend a lot of time alone.  I work from home, so I am here, talking to cats and rolling my eyes at dogs all day, every day.  So, I have a lot of time to dwell on things.  A couple of weeks ago, when Jehovah’s SWAT team disturbed my peace, I got angry.  The loud, cop-like banging on the door gave me heart palpitations and brought me back to the 80’s when I spent many an evening sitting in my room watching “Cops.” DO NOT give a hermit heart palpitations.  It can actually give the hermit enough energy to leave the house.   I almost ran down the street after the holy SWAT team in my snow flake pajamas.  I decided against it as that would mean actually talking to them.  Plus, what would I have done, yelled at them? What good is anger?

I came up with a better idea.  Instead of being annoyed with the Jehovah’s Witnesses, I attempted to channel my inner Buddhist and find a way to help if I can.  So, I’m going to give back to them, as they give to many people.  They like to give people brochures and persuade them to believe like they do.  Well, I’m going to share my views on spirituality with them.  I may not believe in God, or Jesus, or Hell, or Heaven, but I believe in Santa.  In fact, I’ve made a little flyer to share with the JWs.  I’ve even included quotes from books because books always prove everything.

I’m including the flyer here, so you can use it, too.  Simply click this link to get the PDF version from my Google Drive:  Santa Flyer This flyer could be used for everyone, not just Jehovah’s Witnesses.  I mean, other religious groups, vacuum salesmen, roofers, driveway pavers, and assorted other characters think they are entitled to step onto your porch, ring your doorbell, and invade your peace and privacy.  Give them a Santa flyer, a hearty “HO, HO, HO,” and tell them to go in peace.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Cults, Jehovah's Witnesses, Santa, Soliciting

A Hermit’s Black Friday

“Why don’t we stop by Target?” I asked my husband and my mother, as we pulled out of the parking lot of an apartment complex we were looking at for my mom. “We have an hour until we have to meet everyone for lunch, and mom wanted to look at small Christmas trees.  Plus, I really have to pee.” I HATE public bathrooms, but it didn’t make sense to drive all the way back to my mom’s apartment. My husband looked at me like I’d been huffing Windex, and asked me how to get to Target.  He was driving our rental car around my hometown, Hollywood, Florida.

I asked my mom where the Target in Pembroke Pines was, since we were meeting some of my closest high school friends for lunch at Burger and Beer Joint on Pines Boulevard. Mom told my husband where to go (not like that — she actually likes him), and we arrived at Target.  It was so crowded.  There were not even handicapped parking spaces available.  My mom has a handicapped parking permit.

“Wow. It’s so crowded,” I said, while thinking about how much I missed Ohio.

“Well, it is Black Friday, Lisa,” My husband said, while pulling the car over to one side in the lot.  “You ladies get out here.  I will go fight for a spot.” I totally forgot it was Black Friday, since, as your token introverted friend, I do all of my shopping online.  My husband is a gem for dropping us off out front and not smacking me.

So, my mom and I went into Target, and headed to the restrooms.  Holy cow! I mean. I’ve been in gas station bathrooms before, and Walmart bathrooms, but the Target ladies room in Pembroke Pines needs some kind of honorable mention in the International Nasty Bathroom competition.  If this competition doesn’t exist, it should.  I realize it was Black Friday, but come on, Target.  Don’t make me regret hating Walmart.

As my mom and I exited the bathroom, my husband entered the store, having found a parking space.  We walked around Target, trying to find that tree.  We could barely look at the trees because the folks at Target had carts full of merchandise blocking the Christmas tree display. We squeezed by a cart to get a look at the trees.  The whole blockade reminded me of the liquor section in any grocery store in Indiana on a Sunday.  Prior to moving to Columbus, we lived in Fort Wayne, IN (THE Armpit of America).  So, I know all about carts blocking the items you actually want to buy.  Man, was I glad to get out of there.

So, after an unsuccessful trip to Target, we headed over to Burger and Beer Joint for lunch.  Through the beauty of Facebook, I have kept in touch with A LOT of friends from high school.  Since I am a touch on the introverted side, I made lunch plans with a really small group of them.  Next time, I want to make individual plans with my besties.  I don’t feel like I had enough time with anyone.  Like a textbook introvert, I don’t like to hang out with gobs of people, but I LOVE the friends I do have.

My friend H, who I met at the bus stop on the first day of 8th grade at a new school, brought her adorable son and niece.  The kids colored pictures for Chris and me that I will hang on my fridge as soon as I unpack them.  I will put them here for your enjoyment.  H and her son and niece could model.  Seriously, I told H that, too.  They are all such gorgeous people.

My friend T has not aged one bit and is still the sweetest person ever.  She brought me a card and a Starbuck’s gift card.  T and I met in drafting class in 8th grade, and she still KNOWS me.  I love this girl.

C brought her boyfriend.  It was nice to meet him in person as I had seen pictures and read his funny comments on Facebook.  It was so nice to see them together and see my friend so happy.  They are a beautiful couple

M, who I never hung out with in high school, was thrilled to have a grown-up lunch.  Her two kids, both models, for real, were at home with dad.  M is a prime example of everything that is good about Facebook.  I hardly knew her in school, but she is one of my best, most genuine friends, thanks to this newfangled Internet.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted, and a little sad.  There was a lot of talking and interaction, which can drain a hermit, but it was with people I adore.  I loved seeing everyone and catching up.  I miss living in Florida only when I think of my friends and family.  I would really like it if everyone would just move to Ohio.  I’m sure all Floridians are jumping at the chance to shovel snow.  I guess I will keep visiting.

Beautiful Art!

 

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Black Friday, Florida, introverts, Travel