I Can Take My Hands Off My Ears...But Now I Have To Put Them Over My Eyes

Ding Dong. She's really gone.

The Shrieking Machine has left the gym. I wanted to make sure before celebrating, but after seven blissful shriek-free weeks, I think it's safe. I can't express how wonderful it is to go to the gym to relieve some stress and actually accomplish that rather than getting more edgy by the minute with shouts of "knee! knee! knee!"

There is, however, one character I wouldn't mind going the same way The Shrieking Machine did. I feel bad for even mentioning her, because while The Shrieking Machine did something that was a real disturbance, this lady annoys me for no real reason except my own cattiness.

But if I could post a photo of her, I don't think anyone would disagree with me.

I call her Didn't-Bother-To-Brush-Her-Hair-
But-Did-Take-The-Time-To-Put-On-Tights-Yes, Tights-Lady. The title is pretty self-explanatory. Why in the world would anyone wear tights to the gym? They're not any sort of athletic tights; they're just regular black tights that she wears under shorts. If she's afraid her legs will get cold, why not just wear pants? Seeing her makes my legs feel hot and itchy. And yeah, her hair always looks awful, and I have the feeling that she never actually does anything with it. I mean, I never look all that put-together at the gym -- why bother when you're just going to sweat and get gross -- but if the gym isn't the first place I've been that day, I at least have my hair brushed. Not so much with this woman.

I know it's mean of me to say, but I can't help it. She's there every time I go to the gym -- every time -- and inevitably she ends up on a machine directly in front of whatever machine I'm on, so I have no choice but to look at her. I still feel bad for getting annoyed with her, though, so I'm kind of hoping she joins a kickboxing class and starts shrieking so I have a good reason to dislike her.

What Brown Did For Me, Part II

Surprisingly, I received my UPS package today, and although I haven't opened it yet, it actually looks like the right package.

I've written UPS a belated Christmas card to thank them for the impeccable treatment I was given. The only thing I can't decide is whether to send it by U.S. Postal Service or FedEx.

Jackpot!

It seems as if all of the hours we spent scanning stuff at Macy's, Williams-Sonoma and Bed Bath & Beyond has paid off. Two of the gifts for which my fiance and I registered have been purchased for us, according to the latter two stores' Web sites.

I cannot wait to receive my dish towels and snack box shaped like a goldfish cracker.

The Taste Of Christmas

So I broke down. Between the UPS debacle and not being home for the first time and not having any time off and having a long week at work, I wasn't feeling very Christmasy. So I baked cookies to get myself in the mood.

I just made a few.

Alright, so I made 12 dozen. But I plan to take half of them to my fiance's family's house and gave a few dozen to neighbors.

But I sure am in the holiday spirit now!

What Brown Did For Me

I'll admit it. One of the things I love most about Christmas is the presents.

It's not so much getting new stuff -- when you're past the age of 12 or so and not getting toys but books and sweaters, the contents of the packages are usually not that exciting -- but the fact that someone thought to buy something special for me, and it's always so exciting to see the tree piled high with gifts on Christmas morning. This year, I will be spending the holiday away from my family for the first time, instead going to my fiance's parents' house to celebrate with them. So my mom sent my Christmas gifts to me via UPS.

This is where the warm, fuzzy story turns sour.

On Thursday, my mom tracked my package and reported that the address had been changed and UPS needed a suite number. I had, the day before, re-routed another UPS package from my home address to my work address, so I assumed UPS had applied the change to all packages going to me. I called to give them the suite number of my office, and I was surprised to learn that the address my package was sent to was neither my home address nor my work address but a place in a town somewhere between the two. I don't even know anyone who lives or works in that town.

I corrected UPS and asked them to route it to my work address on Friday, and I asked if they could give me a range of hours that their driver would be out with my package. My office closed early yesterday, so I wanted to know whether I could expect it before then or whether I would have to stick around or re-route it back to my home if it would be going out late. The lady said she had no idea what time packages go out in the morning and that if my mom had wanted delivery on a guaranteed date, she should have upgraded from ground delivery to air delivery -- at a handsome extra charge, of course. I told the woman I would just wait around at work, and if the package didn't show up in time, I'd go from there.

Imagine my surprise when the UPS delivery guy showed up at my office yesterday with no package for me. I called UPS again to ask what address my package was going to, and they gave me my home address. I told them no, this was a mistake; the address was not supposed to be changed again. The woman I spoke to this time offered to re-route the package back to my work address, but I explained that I was on my way home at this point and would simply hope the driver hadn't stopped there yet.

Yes, I said it angrily. Yes, I hung up on her. I know it wasn't this lady's fault, but considering the fact that UPS had now changed the address on me twice without my requesting or authorizing it, I think I had a right to be perturbed. I had done everything I could to make sure they brought the package to where I would be, and UPS took great pains to make sure the package came nowhere near me.

Holding on to the hope that perhaps it would show up on my doorstep, I sat at home all afternoon, waiting. I had errands to run, so as soon as my fiance walked in the door, I ran out, rushing around so I would be back before he had to leave again and someone would be home to sign for the package.

At 6:45, when nothing had shown up, I tracked the package online again, guessing that UPS had changed the address on me a third time. Bingo! They had. They had re-routed the package yet again, back to my work address.

At this point, I was beyond fuming. It was getting increasingly more difficult to refrain from screaming at the people who picked up the phone at the 800 number. These people refused to do anything to help. Because the package had been sent by ground and not air, it was not important to UPS to get it to me at any specific time.

I understand that they can't guarantee a time, but you'd think they'd guarantee that the package gets to where it should go. And when they had changed the delivery address three times now without my ever asking them to do so, they should have made special accommodations to get me this package the day it should have been delivered. My mom paid what was probably a good chunk of money to get me this package, and she sent it off in plenty of time for it to get to me by Christmas. It was not her fault, and it was not my fault, that the package had not reached me. It was UPS' fault, and UPS was refusing to make amends.

The last guy at the 800 number finally sent a note to the distribution center, and a woman from there called me to explain that my package was not to her distribution center yet but at another distribution center 10 miles away and would not arrive there until Tuesday morning, at which point it was to be delivered to my work address. I called the distribution center where the package allegedly was, and a woman there told me it had already left for the other one. But it would not be there until Tuesday; apparently, sending something UPS ground means that it takes three days to go 10 miles. I didn't figure those trucks went very fast, but I had no idea.

UPS' mission was accomplished. My Christmas gifts will be late, and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. UPS is the Grinch, and I am Cindy Lou Who, except my attitude is not quite as forgiving as hers.

The worst part is, if my mom had simply sent the gifts late, I wouldn't have cared. I get gifts late all the time, and goodness knows I hardly ever send gifts out on time. (So perhaps UPS was sending some of my late-gift-sending karma back my way).

No, the fact that the gifts will be late doesn't bother me half as much as the fact that I have spent the past two days waiting for them and on the phone with UPS, trying to correct the errors they had made. They're just gifts; I'm sure my mom got me some very nice stuff, but let's face it. I'm way past the age where Christmas gifts are exciting toys, and there's not much I can do with a sweater or a pair of gloves that simply cannot wait an extra day. My Christmas has not been ruined by not having my gifts right away, but the past two days have been ruined while I've dealt with this mess.

So today, even though I had not planned to, I will bake some Christmas cookies to get myself back into the holiday spirit. If I can't be near my family, and I can't get their gifts on time, at least I can eat the cookies made from their recipes.

So what has "brown" done for me? Besides eaten up an hour's worth of minutes on my cell phone and made my blood pressure shoot sky high, not a whole hell of a lot. I am somewhat skeptical about the possibility of the package actually coming to me on Tuesday like it's now supposed to. But maybe I'll get the gifts in time for next Christmas.

Stuffed

Anyone who reads this blog even casually knows that I love food, and I especially love sweets. So what I am about to say is going to seem completely out of character, and, to be honest, even I am surprised to be typing these words. But the fact of the matter is...

I just can't eat any more Christmas treats.

It started very innocently, the day I decided to get a jump start on my holiday baking by making Oreo Balls (smashed up Oreo cookies mixed with cream cheese and covered in chocolate) and chocolate covered peanut butter crackers (two saltines with peanut butter in between, covered in chocolate) and Chex Party Mix (just the regular kind, although I do make a chocolate-covered version of that too). For a few days, I sampled the treats modestly, taking care not to pig out too much.

But then it snowballed.

A visitor to my office brought with him a huge package of Godiva chocolates and a great big tin of chocolate covered cookies, which was put in the kitchen right next to the half-full box of candy a client had sent awhile back. Then our cleaning ladies brought us some cookies, cupcakes and fudge. Today, I went in there and saw a gift basket full of all kinds of holiday treats. Did I mention there are only eight of us in the office?

And at home it was just as bad. Once the chocolate covered stuff and the Chex Mix had been either eaten or pawned off onto someone, I thought it safe to buy a bag of Hershey's Kisses for a candy dish on my coffee table. But then my sister sent me some beef and cheese logs and some petit fours, and I received a stocking full of candy bars and a box of the most delicious shortbread cookies in the history of mankind in a gift exchange. Throw in a couple of get-togethers, and December has made for some snug pants, let me tell you.

It's not like I've been pigging out nonstop, but it has been tough to resist all this wonderful food, especially when it just arrives on your doorstep. I'll admit, the Oreo Balls, peanut butter things and Chex Mix were my fault, but even after I decided to put a moratorium on Christmas cookie baking, my kitchen is still full of delicious, wonderful, tasty food.

I think it's wonderful that people share food at Christmas. I enjoy cooking and baking for people, and I certainly enjoy eating. But I just don't think I can do any more of it this year.

I'm starting to go into a sugar coma.

It Is Less Time Consuming To Give Than To Receive

Today, my fiance and I set up our wedding gift registries. We knew it would be time consuming, but we had no idea just how tiring it would be. Here's a rundown of the afternoon's activities.

1 p.m. -- Arrive at the mall. We go straight to Macy's so that my relatives in Pennsylvania have somewhere to shop for us, because they don't have too many good stores there and some folks are not internet savvy.

1:15 p.m. -- Lady who helps us sent us out into the store with a gun thing to scan what we wanted. I make the mistake of letting my fiance use the gun, and he makes a funny noise every time he scans something and repeatedly tries to scan my butt because he thinks it's funny. We don't find much that we really really want but did find a few fun items. We almost register for a gigantic serving dish that looks like a turkey, but in the fear that someone might buy it for us, we decide not to.

1:40 p.m. -- Finish scanning stuff at Macy's, return to the desk to find the lady who helped us engaged with a customer.

1:45 p.m. -- Apparently the customer's credit card is not going through, so we continue to wait.

1:50 p.m. -- The lady finally pawns off rejected credit card lady on someone else and helps us wrap up. She gives us a free canvas tote bag, which is worth the trip.

1:55 p.m. -- Leave Macy's for Williams-Sonoma.

2:00 p.m. -- Fill out a form for Williams-Sonoma gift registry.

2:02 p.m. -- Give the form back to the lady behind the counter and wait for her to type our information into the computer. Politely turned down offer of free sample of espresso from lady who thought we were standing by the espresso machine because we wanted one.

2:05 - 2:10 p.m. -- Go through the form with lady behind the counter, line by line, at her request, so that she will spell everything right.

2:15 p.m. -- Look around while waiting for lady behind counter to finish. Espresso lady asks if we are sure we don't want to try an espresso; we politely decline.

2:17 p.m. -- Lady behind the counter hands us a paper that has our registry information and find my name is spelled wrong. Gave it back and asked her to fix it and waited some more.

2:25 p.m. -- Make small talk with espresso lady, who ends up being the most helpful person in that store.

2:30 p.m. -- Finally cave and let espresso lady get us an espresso.

2:35 p.m. -- Lady behind the counter gives us the little gun thingy and we go out into the store. Espresso lady follows us because it's just so exciting. We ask her for help with an item that won't scan, however, and she's not sure what to do, but she does help us find someone who knows.

2:45 p.m. -- None of the items at Williams-Sonoma seem to still have the stickers with the bar codes on them. We have to ask bald guy behind the counter for help, and he finds someone who can figure out what to scan. I kind of miss the espresso lady.

2:50 p.m. -- Having scanned a bunch of stuff, we can't find anyone to help us except the first lady, who couldn't read or type, who attempts to upload our information into the computer.

2:55 p.m. -- Lady returns with a printed out sheet that has none of the items we had scanned and one we had not and goes back to try to upload again.

2:58 p.m. -- Lady apologetically explains that our entire registry is lost. Rather than do it all again, we leave, quietly cursing the stupid lady who screwed up the whole thing.

3:05 p.m. -- Swing by the Auntie Anne's to grab a pretzel, but the line is too long and we are cranky.

3:20 p.m. -- Enter Bed Bath & Beyond. I get in line at the customer service desk while my fiance sits in the demo massage chair to rest his flat feet.

3:22 p.m. -- Listen to girl behind customer service desk try to figure out how to figure out tax by multiplying by a percentage. Guy standing at counter wrongly explains that she should multiply the amount by .8 or something. I consider stepping in but am afraid that in my semi-crankiness and tiredness I might end up either explaining it wrong or being mean, and, thankfully, a nice foreign lady steps in first.

3:24 p.m. -- Once foreign lady is done being taken care of and I ask where the registry is and am directed to the rear of the store.

3:25 p.m. -- My fiance tells me to try the massage chair, and it really does pep me up a bit.

3:28 p.m. -- Find registry area and fill out some more paperwork. Explain to Pam the registry lady that we don't need fine china or crystal; we just want everyday stuff. Pam is nice but kind of balks at the idea that we would have guests over and not have anything nice to serve them on, despite the fact that we tell her that right now we kind of need other things a lot more than fine china.

3:29 p.m. -- We choose a fine china pattern.

3:35 p.m. -- Pam helps us choose crystal and flatware to go with the china. It actually looks quite nice. I make my fiance pledge to have a fancy party soon after we get married so that we have a reason to use fine china and crystal.

3:50 p.m. -- Pam takes us over to the cookware section of the store to meet Josh, who she says will help us there, despite the fact that we have already chosen cookware at Macy's. Josh, who has laryngitis, explains that Pete will be helping us because he does not have laryngitis. Pete is not happy when we tell him we want copper bottom pots and steers us toward stainless steel. We tell him we have already registered at Macy's for copper bottom pots, and he pulls up the brand and tells us it is not as good as the brand we'd been looking at in his store. He's actually right, but we kind of want a chance to register for other stuff that we haven't looked at yet, so we run away from Pete and register for other stuff.

4:15 p.m. -- I make my fiance scan a plastic take-along snack container that looks like a goldfish cracker. This is one of my favorite items on the list so far.

6 p.m. -- After we've been through the entire store, Pam brings us snacks and tells us that we deserve a break. We tell her we're done.

6:15 p.m. -- Pam goes over some other registry stuff with us and tells us congratulations about 12 times. She's actually pretty nice, and I wonder if we should invite her to the wedding so that she can buy us that china with her employee discount.

6:20 p.m. -- We revisit our fine china setting, and I still like it, but I am kind of hoping that we get more of the every day dishes, because I really like them and don't have to have anyone over to use them, plus they are dishwasher safe.

6:30 p.m.-9 p.m. -- We finally leave Bed Bath & Beyond and, having given up any hope of making it to the grocery store and cooking dinner like we'd planned, we come home and order pizza and watch Mean Girls on TV.

9 p.m. - 10 p.m. -- Looking online, I learn that the dumb lady at Williams-Sonoma actually did upload our thing, and we do have a registry. In fact, we have two. One is empty and the other has the stuff we chose today.

10:27 p.m. -- My head hurts. I am going to bed.

An Open Letter To My Fiance, Regarding Mice

Dear Fiance,

I don't pull the girl card very often, but I'm going to have to do it now.

I am sorry that you think it is unacceptable for me to refuse to clean mouse traps, but that's just the way it has to be. I just cannot bring myself to look at or even come close to touching a dead mouse.

I offered to buy the poison stuff that makes them go outside to die, but you were afraid they would die in the walls. So I offered to buy the circular traps that close and kill them so you can just throw the whole thing away and never look at a mouse, but you said they were too expensive for something that was not reuseable.

When you insisted instead on buying the kind that snaps the mouse in half in front of your eyes, you promised that you wouldn't give me crap about not checking or touching the traps, so I hope you will stick to that.

Sorry, but mice are icky, and you need to be the manly man and take care of them all and protect me from the nasty vermin.

Hugs and kisses,
Erika

Fa La La La La La La La La

Christmas is a season of excess, when everything we like to do, we do to the umpteenth degree. We pig out, we spend too much money and we decorate our homes in ways that we would never do any other time of year, with glittery, ostentatious things that light up and make noise.

And it's wonderful! I hope to someday have a house that I can decorate the way that Clark Griswold decorated his, with 25,000 twinkle lights. I think it's grand when people go to Target on December 26th and buy lights, signs and inflatable snow globes for 50 percent off, then pile it all into their yards the following year. Even the tacky stuff is great. The more, the better I say.

I do have a problem with the people who half-ass it with the lights though. You know who I mean. The ones who buy one of those light net things that you can put right over a tree, and then only put one on a big tree, leaving half of the tree covered and half uncovered. The ones who put a string of lights on one tiny hedge in front of their house and leave everything else bare.

If you're not going to go whole hog with the lights, I say, don't do the lights. You can still decorate with inflatable snowmen and wreaths, and your home will look very festive. But unless you're willing to put in some time and effort, don't bother with the lights. No one will fault you if you don't put any lights out, but it looks pretty stupid when you throw up one string and call it a day.

I'm not saying that everyone needs to put out 25,000 twinkle lights, but driving around town would be a lot more entertaining if they did.

Fine

When I was in high school, I took two years of German. My teacher was actually from Germany; she had grown up near Hamburg, so our lessons always contained tidbits about German culture as she had experienced it growing up.

Early on, we learned the phrase, "wie gehts," which means, "how are you?" We also learned various responses, like, "es geht mir gut"(good) or "es geht mir schlecht," (bad), etc. And my teacher made the comment that Germans are more honest than Americans when asked that simple question. If you ask a German person "wie gehts," you won't hear "es geht mir gut" unless it's really true; here, however, you'll almost always hear the same response.

"Fine."

It's as if we feel we will be a burden if we're honest. Not everyone wants to hear, "I'm wonderful; I just won a million dollars in the lottery;" it sounds like bragging. And "my wife left me and took all the toothpaste" sounds whiny.

But now, after years of pondering, I wonder, why would people ask if they don't really want to know?

In my job, I deal with many different people, so I'm on the phone pretty often. My clients are located all over the United States, so I never actually see them face to face. I don't chat with them about personal stuff too much, so I don't really know any of them that well except in the business sense. But every time I call one of them, or one of them calls me, the first question is always, "how are you."

And my response is always "fine" or "pretty good," and then, "how are you?" (They're always "fine" or "pretty good" too).

Why do I say that? I don't care how these people are. I don't care how their days are going. Sure, I hope their lives are in basic balance and they're healthy and comfortable, because they're people, and most of them are pretty nice, but unless it is affecting the business we are doing, I don't care much what is going on in their personal lives. That may sound a little heartless, but they don't really care about my personal life either. They're paying for a service I provide, so they don't want to waste time on chit chat, and I've got other clients to worry about, so I don't want to waste time either.

And it's not just the "how are you." We always say these polite words that we obviously don't mean, just because we think we're supposed to say them. Last night, I went to Target, and as I left, the girl at the register told me, "have a great night." She said it in a completely robotic voice, though, as if whoever trained her told her to say that, and now it just comes automatically. I don't care if she wants me to have a great night, so I kind of wish she wouldn't tell me to have one unless she really meant it.

It just seems sort of counterproductive to say these things. Why ask how someone is if you really don't care? And why say "have a great night" unless you really wish them well? I think the words lose their meaning when they're thrown around like that, and the polite almost becomes impolite.

So I am going to try to always mean what I say. If I don't think a person really gives a crap if I tell them to have a nice day, I won't tell them to have a nice day. Why bother? I doubt too many folks would be offended if I hung up the phone with a simple "goodbye" or "talk to you later." And when I'm asked how I am, I'll tell the truth. I'm not going to go on a whole diatribe about my life up to that point, but the answer will be honest and not automatic.

I think that solution is fine.