The Plunger

The Plunger

Monday I went to a funeral at Union Grove Baptist Church. My cousin Laura Lee’s grandfather passed away this past weekend. I’m not talented enough to eulogize Mr Taylor. I don’t have half the words I’d need. Just know that he was an amazing man. And I know you’re probably thinking ‘well, sure, all old people are great’ but when I say amazing I seriously mean amazing.

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Okay. I will say just a couple things:

He was 96 but enjoyed an incredible run of good health until almost the very end. He walked a lot and as he would walk he would collect cans. When he had enough he would turn them into the recycling plant and use the money to take his Sunday School out to dinner. That’s just the kind of man he was.

Speaking of Sunday School, he taught Sunday School his entire life. He was still teaching a class at 96. He was my Dad’s Sunday School teacher in 1967 – the year my parents got married.

When his wife died he kept a casserole she’d made in the freezer for over a year because he just couldn’t stand the thought of losing the last thing she cooked.

A man among men.

What does the funeral, which was completely packed, have to do with my thirtieth day of embarrassing stories? To answer that question I won’t tell a story I’ll just present a picture I drew. A diagram, if you will, let’s call it…

The long, long walk between the bathroom I was in and the plunger I needed.

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Did I mention the church was FULL of people? Yeah, I thought I did. 

My Racist Neighbor…

My Racist Neighbor…

Today’s story isn’t funny. Heck, when you are blogging your most embarrassing moments every single day they can’t all be funny. So bear with me while I share this one.

Nothing makes me crazier about myself then when it’s time to put my big girl panties on and I don’t. For instance, I bought a sweater last week at Ann Taylor, paid full price for it, and today, the second time I’ve worn it, I see a big ole hole in it. Now, if I’d gone hiking in it or did some sort of strenuous activity I’d understand but, nope, I just wore it at a conference for a few hours. So, a normal woman would go back to Ann Taylor and get another sweater. Since I’m a big fat baby, though, I won’t because I think ‘oh, I don’t want to cause any trouble,’ I’ll just keep wearing it – hole and all.

Gah! Be a grown up! Stand up for yourself. My Mom is SO good at this. A little too good actually. What is my problem?

Halloween always reminds me of the embarrassment of all the times when I should have said something and didn’t. That’s because I had quite the little life changing event at Halloween several years ago, several neighborhoods ago. Well, if not life changing it certainly made me much more willing to speak up for myself.

Here’s how it all went down: I was sitting in my driveway shooting the breeze with my one of my neighbors when the subject of Halloween came up. It was just a few days away and I was telling her how much I love to see all the trick or treaters on the thirty first. She paused for a moment and said ‘I used to enjoy seeing all the trick or treaters but I really don’t anymore.’ I remarked that ‘Since your kids are grown I don’t suppose it’s as fun as it used to be.’ She leaned in, looked around, and said:

“Well, it’s just that it’s gotten so…URBAN. It’s so URBAN now that we just turn our lights out and don’t give out candy. I’m not a racist but I just liked it better when it was kids from OUR neighborhood and not kids that just come in from outside. Know what I mean?”

Urban. So…urban. Did she just say urban?

So, this is where I should have said ‘That sounds really unfair. Why do you care what color the trick or treaters are?’ But or course I didn’t. Because reacting like that would have been the right thing to do. The grown up thing to do. Instead, I just stammered out a ‘well, other holidays are fun too.’

Other holidays are fun too. What the heck does that even mean? What a ridiculous way to opt out of the conversation, Paula. Now sometimes people excuse racism in the elderly because they say ‘well, it’s hard to change when you’re old,’ but y’all this woman was in her fifties. That ain’t old and she had no excuse. Neither did I though. I should have said something.

I mean, urban, dear Lord, urban? She really just said urban. Sheesh, just say black or latino or whatever it is you actually mean. And anytime someone has to preface something by saying ‘I’m not a racist but…’ Yeah, that’s pretty much a guarantee that whatever you are going to say IS actually racist.

Seriously, people…

And she’s may be the only person who has flat out said ‘urban’ but I’ve heard lots of people complain that kids from other neighborhoods trick or treat in their neighborhood. In our neighborhood.

Why in the WORLD do you care who shows up at your door to trick or treat? You’re handing out candy for goodness sake. Heck, you probably bought the cheap kind. Just give them the stupid candy. And no, since you asked, I don’t care whether it’s a teenager in a costume or a grown up or whatever. If it makes them happy and doesn’t cost you anything extra just do it. Either it goes in their pillowcase or back in your kitchen to sit and get stale.

Hey Christians, it’s the one time people are going to actually COME to your door. How about showing a little love and not worrying about what zip code they come from.

Now look, if you’re that person that just flat out doesn’t like Halloween, for goodness sake, turn your light off. I’m certainly not saying everyone has to like it – I’m just saying please don’t pull this ‘I only want kids from my neighborhood in my neighborhood.’ I just can not possibly think of a reason why it’s okay to say this ever.

I don’t know…maybe I’m so adamant about this because I didn’t grow up in a neighborhood. We always trick or treated with my cousin Eddie and his siblings because they always lived in neighborhoods full of kids.

So, when you complain that trick or treaters from different zip codes are coming in you are complaining that I came in.

How about your promise not to be my racist neighbor and I’ll promise to speak up next time someone say something this asinine.

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 My minions in 2009. Stella is one sneeze away from being dropped in this picture. 

 

Inappropriate Autocorrect…

Inappropriate Autocorrect…

It’s Day 28 of the #Write31Days blogging project and it’s way past time to talk about the plethora of embarrassment that comes from autocorrect.

Hold up…as I typed this I got a sneaking suspicion that I’ve already blogged about this…Y’all, I’m not even gonna check. It is what it is. 

Sooo…It’s not just autocorrect that is embarrassing. Heck, what just happened when I pulled up this draft was embarrassing. I had been thinking all day ‘well, at least that autocorrect blog is already written.’ When I opened it up here’s what I saw:

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Yep, one word and that word was ‘bananas.’ Unfortunately, I have no clue what it’s in reference to. Bananas apparently.

Me and Mom are all about some autocorrect nonsense.

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I’m a little concerned about how quickly autocorrect jumps to something pooping in her grass. Is this something that happens a lot? Enough that autocorrect automatically thinks something is going to do that in her grass. Hmmm…that’s a bit of a mystery.

I don’t know…autocorrect really does get me sometimes:

Screen Shot 2014-10-14 at 4.10.24 PMI mean…I didn’t even know autocorrect would suggest words that aren’t even in the dictionary but apparently they do.

And this next thing…Oh, Paula! This isn’t an autocorrect but look at me complaining AGAIN about the catechism!

The good news is I’ve totally cured myself of worrying about the catechism. Ya know how I did it? I stopped helping them memorize it. Now 100% of the responsibility is on them. I don’t even ask about. I mean, yes, two hours ago I got an e-mail notification that Jamie got an F on the last one but whatcha gonna do. 

Screen Shot 2014-10-14 at 4.19.12 PMAnd, again it’s not autocorrect, but could I be anymore up in my nephew’s business? That’s embarrassing. Those poor boys…

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And here’s one when we had been dealing with some shenanigans at the DMV.

Look, in my defense, having to deal with the DMV will make anyone think of the Sith. If you work there, I’m sorry, I’m sure you’re awesome – its just a tough job.

Are there certain words you are just never going to know how to spell? Of course there aren’t because you are a grown up and you learned to spell a long time ago but for me these are some that I’ll have to defend on autocorrect my entire life. That’s embarrassing too.

Screen Shot 2014-10-14 at 4.06.33 PMSeriously, it’s just impossible to spell the word license or recommend without autocorrect.

But I do know how to spell ‘balloon’ because I missed it in the 3rd grade spelling bee and Emily got to advance to the next round and I didn’t. So, me and the word balloon are kind of dead to each other for the rest of history.

My feelings about that are not at all embarrassing and are totally legit.

TOTALLY.