Month: November 2003

Jason went camping this weekend with the Boy Scouts, and I was looking forward to some down time. Get together with the Friday Gaggle of Friends, take my bike for a nice long ride today (just 5 months until the MS 150!) and maybe even head in to downtown to take some pictures.

Instead I woke up yesterday with an incredibly sore throat, and today the sore throat is gone but I can’t breath and my ears are all crackly every time I swallow. Thankfully, Mike was kind enough to go to the store for me to get me some medicine, and some down time seems to be helping – but damn it! I had things I wanted to do this weekend! Being sick sucks, you know?

Oh, and if you’re waiting on me for access to the post below – soon, I promise. I had friends to take care of last night and it was much more important then being online.

Ugh. I think it’s time to go back to bed…

I use the “Restricted Posts” feature on my blog so rarely, I have to remind everyone of this whenever I do: I restrict posts to keep them out of Google and away from people at work. So if you work with me, I probably won’t grant you access. If you are ANYONE else, I probably will grant you access. If you leave a comment on my blog at any time, I will probably grant you access. If I haven’t granted you access yet, just ask. I always get e-mails where people say they don’t want to pry into my private life, or they were afraid to ask before or stuff like that. Really, it’s ok. I *want* you to ask.

Oh, and I mentioned comments there. Feel free to comment liberally. If you want to comment on every single post I write – feel free to do so. If you want to disagree with me, go right ahead. If you want to question me about what I wrote, I’m open to that too. Anything goes in my comments. (Well, no outright flame wars. Those normally don’t happen here anyways – you guys really are all so well behaved!)

Jennifer and I were talking the other day, and I brought up a comment discussion we had had before. Unless I am speed surfing and really don’t have time to comment (unfortunately a lot lately), I will comment all over the place. I comment all the time. I love to leave comments. Speed surfing frustrates me because of the lack of time. I feel like you are talking to me through your blog – and I like to talk back. It’s sort of like saying, “I’m listening…” But the issue came up about the flip side of blogging – what you do when you read something traumatic? Someone’s grandmother passed away, someone’s uncle has cancer, someone’s dog was hit by a car. Do you comment?

I normally do. If you told me in person about anything like that, I would respond – and so I do the same on blogs. In many ways, for me, blogs are my “Urban Tribe”. It helps that I have met so many bloggers in person across the country, and that we have a great blog community here in Houston. The discussion actually started with Jenn because … well, this is going to sound really cheesy and I know it … because I posted about Jason breaking his arm and some people that I would have expected to say something, anything – said nothing. Add to the fact that Tuesday was a bad day (as you can read about in the restricted access post after I give you access), and I was just being whiney. She talked me down off the proverbial ledge and all was good in the end, but for awhile – it bugged me. I can’t deny it.

So, back to the point of the post – I want to know that you are out there. I want to know what you think, how you feel. Even if you don’t have a blog at all – that’s ok. I know there are many people that read blogs even though they don’t have one – I think that’s mighty cool.

Oh! And as an added perk – if you leave comments on my site, you will be listed in my sidebar with my cool little most recent commenter script that Ste (who has returned to blogging! Yeah!) wrote for me. It’s like a whole win-win situation!

There you have it. My open invitation to request access to restricted posts and leave comments all over the place. You’re always welcome here…

I try to make sure I only go to Wal-Mart when there are several items that I really need. Any time you go in to that store, it doesn’t matter if you only need one thing – you will end up spending close to $100. I have no idea how they do that to you. Is it something they pipe in the air? The music and ads that they play? No clue. Mike must be immune to it though – he can go in there with a list of things that I need and come out with just those items (plus maybe a pack of gum). I can never do it.

So I’m wandering through the store, picking up the items that I need. Makeup, moisturizer, a new pair of tights. I decided I wanted to check the prices on the pedometers, because everyone should walk 10,000 steps to a healthier new you.

While at the back of the store where the sports equipment is hidden, Mike called me on my cell phone. The reception was sort of spotty, so I moved a few feet away so I could try to hear him better. Then I looked around the corner of the aisle to see if the pedometers were over there. Then I went to return to my shopping cart.

Only my cart was nowhere to be found.

And my purse was on my shoulder – but my keys were in the cart.

I never really thought about it before last night, but most of us have those little keyless remote “clicker” things on our keychains these days. After wandering around for a second and realizing my cart was nowhere to be found, I also realized that all someone has to do is walk out in to the parking lot, go a few feet, and start clicking. My car will honk and flash it’s lights. “I’m over here! Come and take me home with you!” They are a great convenience – but did we really just make it a lot easier for someone to steal our cars?

First I called Mike back, in a panic – asking him to come meet me at the store. He was half an hour away though. After calming down a little bit – I was standing at my car, so hopefully no one would steal it right out from under me – I called my Dad. He was there within 10 minutes to watch my car for me while I went back in to the store to hunt for my keys.

As I walked in to the store, there was a clerk with a shopping cart full of items – including MY items, underneath everything else. “You have my cart!” She apologized; she had looked but did not see me on the other side of the aisle, so she thought it had been abandoned and was taking it up to the front so they could restock the items on the shelf. “My keys are in it!,” I said, as I frantically lifted up items so I could retrieve them. She apologized again – she had not seen them because I had laid items on top of them, and it really was not her fault at all. I was just thankful that my keys were found.

I’m still considering taking the keyless remote off of my keychain. If someone steals my keys, I at least want to slow them down while they try to find my car to steal. Maybe I’m just being paranoid – but it really scared me last night!