Winter Aches...

As I sit watching it snow and enjoying the fire, I am tending to an extremely ill husband. Not "irritated" ill, but extremely sick. Bless him. I have been up with him since about 11:30 last night and had to demand that he stay home from work and get some medical attention. At the moment, he is fitfully sleeping after keeping down some broth and ginger ale. Pray for a cure soon. As much as I am feeling for him, my tired self is beginning to lose patience with this "Nurse Betty" role. I guess that thought about becoming a nurse as my second career when I grow up isn't such a good one.

But, what is even more forefront on my mind during this difficult day is the disappointment my elder child is feeling because of a recent tryout. My heart is breaking because he wanted to be a part of something so badly, and he was not chosen. Now, I am not one to demand my child be given something he doesn't deserve and for which a better qualified child should receive. However, whenever they feel disappointment, I ache for them. I know in my heart of hearts that these are the moments when they learn the valuable lessons and become men of character, and my lead on how to handle the situation is what will help them develop the skills needed to be successful in life. But no matter how I try, I am the one who cries secretly and aches inside for their disappointment. I would love it if they always were chosen for teams, always hit the ball, never struck out, caught every pass or ball hit to them, ran the fastest, swam the best, sang the most on key, played instruments well just by picking them up, made the highest grades, knew poems without hours of practice for a recitation, created the best display or presentation, and more. But, just as my extremely wise and kind mother reminded me during times of competition and disappointment in my youth, "there will always be someone smarter, prettier, more talented and better at what you are doing." And although that doesn't always remove the sting of the loss, it does make one's attitude going in realistic.

I stress to my children that if they can say to themselves that they did their best, then I ask nothing more of them. I will forever be proud of what they have accomplished and will do whatever it takes to help them if they truly want to improve and attempt a goal again. But, I HATE the disappointment they feel. I wish I could take it from them and replace it with that "tickle in your tummy feeling on Christmas Eve," as my younger son once called it. But if I did that, I would in no way prepare them for the unfair situations that life throws at us ad infinitum. And I desire to help my sons become men like my father and their step-father: men of honor; men of their word; men who know it is okay to feel and to grieve, but understand the need for decorum at times; men who can lose with dignity; and men who can end each day knowing that they did the right thing.

I just wish it didn't require on the job training on their part....

Crazy Cooters Comin' At'cha!

Believe it or not, Hooters has a dress and appearance policy for its "service personnel" (heretofore known as "waitresses"). If you weren't aware - or haven't been to said establishment before - let me avail you of that fact. But, what you may not know is that there are age qualifications, too. And, in addition to that, there are many spin off businesses that attempt to make a go using a similar selling technique - and I'm not speaking of those "bunnies" or those "touch and go" places.

Let me tell you a story....

Years ago, after my college years had recently ended and my friends and I were becoming teachers and other professionals, I had a friend (no, really, this is a historical account of a friend's experience. IT IS NOT ABOUT ME!!! Although, as funny as it is, I almost wish it were!) who was recently divorced, teaching, and had moved to start over. Since there were bills to pay, trips to take, and fun to be had, this friend decided to wait tables after her teaching day was done to earn some extra money and to "get out a little bit."

"Friend" was in her mid 20s and was exceedingly attractive, well-spoken, affable, and able to multi-task (all qualifications needed for a good waitress - ahem, service care representative .). So, she applied at Hooters, figuring that the tips she could earn there would be great - and the hours would be conducive to her teaching schedule. In addition, they were hiring. Imagine her horror when she was told - between the lines - that she was a bit older and more educated than their standard employee and they were not certain she would be a good fit. She was momentarily crushed, but quickly picked herself up and proceeded to restaurant/club #2 on her list.

This establishment was built on the Hooters concept, except that their menu mainstay was seafood. Local seafood caught that day and served fresh that night. The "Catch of the Day" was a special and the nautical theme was present before one ever entered the door. Yes, "Cooters" was a local favorite!! (No, I am not making this up - and all the innuendo that is therein contained as well as the snickering that I know is occurring as you read this has only gone through my mind many times!!). So "Friend" quickly made her way to this establishment and filled out an application. Oh, the heavens opened up and the angels sang!!! She was just what they needed - a female! And one that would wear their green short-shorts, "Cooters" cut-off shirt, and make nice with the customers!! Oh, joy!!!

Believe it or not, this job was one my friend kept for more than a year. She made awesome tips - and had tales to tell more than I can describe. But, the uniform she still has in the depths of her closet says volumes... and the irony abounds!!!

Maybe, if you live right, you, too, can become a "Cooters' Girl!" Dream big!!

Snow Day.... Bring on the "Pit Boss"...

I find myself watching "Snooki" on the Today Show and wondering what my mind could turn into if I watched such drivel all day long. However, my "high-mindedness" is short lived. I have found on these "snow days" I am watching the most frightening host of reality shows imaginable. And I am ADDICTED!!

Could there be a show about me now?!? Instead of "Hoarders," maybe there could be a show about 40 year old English teachers who sneak to watch such tantalizing and titillating television as "My Strange Addiction," "Celebrity Ghost Stories," "Snapped," "Swamp People," "Toddlers and Tiaras," "Disappeared," "Hoarders: Buried Alive," "Animal Hoarders," "Oddities," and "Pit Boss." These women find themselves identifying with the subjects of these shows, and often offer advice to the television in an attempt to aid in the resolution of the conflict at hand.

In addition, there is a uniform required for all the female stars of this show - worn, thread-bare yoga or exercise pants, a stained tank top with stretched-out spots, and either an old, over-sized sweatshirt or a snuggie. Hairstyles range from a messy pony tail with tendrils held back with a large expandable headband bought for that brief moment when "I am going to start running," to a headband thrown into messy bedhead, to a baseball cap.

So, I raise my glass of Coca~Cola at Snooki and check the cable guide to find my favorites so I won't miss a thing. I am making myself feel a bit better by folding clothes that I am running upstairs to wash and pull from the dryer during the moments that I pause my "shows." Let me just adjust my tank top so I can reach those socks at the bottom of the basket....