Momnesia

AUGUSTA, GA - Emerson has been throwing me attitude and dragging her feet all morning. I finally get her in the car to go to school.

"Okay, Em, spill it. What's eating at you this morning?"

She casts her eyes downward. "I'm really nervous."

"About what? The choral competition today?"

"Yes! I've never done anything like this before! I'm scared I'm going to mess up. I'm scared the class is going to mess up. And Mr. Neches will be upset with us."

I laugh. "I totally understand. I would be nervous, too."

"How can YOU understand? You're the best at EVERYTHING."

"What? Em, I'm the best at precisely nothing. I'm the best at not one single thing. And that's okay. Because do you know what I'm really good at?"

"What?"

"I'm really good at trying."



She frowns in consternation out the windshield. "At trying...?"

"There's always someone better, Em. At everything. All you can do is be YOUR best. And then you feel satisfied."

She thought for a little while. We drove in silence as she mulled it over.

"OKAY," she declared. "I'm going to be the best at trying."

"That's awesome. You do you the best way you know how, Em."

"I'm going to sing my butt off."

"Okay. Just pick up your butt before you leave the stage, though, 'cause... Ew."

She giggled. "I'll try. ...Get it? Because I'm going to be the best at trying?"

Maybe she should try working on her jokes, next.

This was my face, pretty much the whole time I was trying to explain this situation to Emerson.

AUGUSTA, GA. - Emerson and I are going through the house and clearing out clutter to sell online. Books, clothes, shoes, toys, small appliances I never use, etc. We've made about $100 so far, with a $1,000 goal.

In the process, she decided to take some of her books to sell at her school. I wasn't convinced that it was a good idea, but she assured me it would be fine. I had reservations.

"MOM! I sold some books!" she said when I picked her up. "I made SEVEN dollars!"

"Wow, that's great, honey! How many books did you sell?"

"I sold three books. I thought that about $2 apiece was a fair price, but then the Diary of a Wimpy Kid book was more expensive, because it has a hard cover."

"Oh, okay. Well, that seems pretty fair."

"See? Look. It's a Sacajawea coin. It's worth $5."

Uh oh... I don't think this is how it works.

"What do you mean, Doodle?"

"It's a $1 coin, but it's really worth $5. A. has a book, and she said it was worth $5. So I told L. that was fine to give me just the coin, and I gave her one dollar back. And then I have two dollars here. So I made seven dollars!"

"Umm.... did you see the coin book?"

"No, she has it at home."

"Honey.. I don't think it works that way."

"Yeahhuh, A. has a book that tells you what things are worth!"

"Okay, let me just Google it."

"Okay."

Unfortunately, it was as a I suspected. Because the coin was a 2001P, and had been in circulation, it was only worth face value.

"The face value means the amount written on the coin. See, honey, it's worth $5 only if you can sell it to someone who also thinks it's worth $5. And there are stores that buy coins, but then they have to sell it and make a profit, so if you sell it to them, they can only give you about half what it's worth."

"What?! I got cheated!"

"Well, hold on. You're still holding one dollar, the face value of the coin. And it sounds like this was an honest mistake that L. made - and that you agreed to."

"Ugh... yeah, I did agree to it, but that was because we all thought it was worth $5. She owes me $4!"

"Hmm. I'm not saying you're wrong. I just don't know, Em. All three of you made honest mistakes, and L. is your friend. Maybe it's not worth the stress."

Emerson stared down at the coin in her hands and thought in silence for a few moments.

"I think I have to talk to her about it. I think what I have to say is, 'I'm not saying anybody is wrong,  but A.'s book made a mistake. This coin is only worth one dollar. Face value.' I think from now on I should only take things that I know what it's worth."

"Well... I think this lesson was definitely worth $4."

Okay, this isn't our photo, but it's almost exactly what Emerson's awesome tacos looked like.

AUGUSTA, GA - Emerson cooked dinner one Friday night. She made pork soft tacos, spiced black beans, and saffron rice. I only helped a little bit. It was delicious.

"Em, this is great!" I said, stuffing spinach into my second one.

"Thanks, Mom! I was afraid you were going to not like it and spit it out." She gave me a hug, clearly relieved.

"Why would you think that? You did a fantastic job."

"I really like it, too. I never cooked meat before, but it's just perfect. I think I have a brown thumb."

"A brown thumb?"

"A meat thumb. Like a green thumb, but for meat instead of plants."

Got it. Meat thumb. Wonder how that would taste in a taco.

This is a personal experience story that I like to call "You're Doing it Wrong." If you came here for a tight little bulleted list or pithy infographic, you've clearly never read my blog before. :-)

AUGUSTA, GA. - I'm sure the social media team at Whirlpool had good intentions. On a Saturday, when I tweeted my frustration at being unable to get to the thermal fuse off one of their dryers so that I could replace it, they actually tweeted back in a direct message, asking how they could help.

    Me: Wow, I was just whining but this is great! Replacing thermal fuse. Can't get drum out to get to it. No rear panel access. Belt off, drum stuck.

   Me: Seems connected at bottom of felt liner but can't see where or how. All web resources say same: it should lift right out. But it won't.

    Whirlpool: Please DM your name, address, ph# & the model & serial number so we can review this for you. Thank you.

    Me: Okay! It would be great if there was a technician who could tell me how to do it! I don't have the money to buy a new dryer right now, so I need to repair this one.

    Whirlpool: Thank you! We'll be in touch with you after looking into this further.

    Me: I really appreciate your responsiveness!

See the heating element? That's what I need to get to in order to replace the thermal fuse. Only I can't get the drum out.

On Wednesday, a team member actually called me to help!

    Whirlpool: We'd like to offer you a special code to buy a new dryer at a discount.

    Me: Um, well, that's very nice of you, thank you. I'll be happy to take a look at that, but it's really not in the budget right now. If someone could please just tell me how to get the drum the rest of the way off, that will probably do it for me.

    Whirlpool: We don't really have anyone who can do that. But I can send you a list of repair providers in your area.

    Me (long pause): Sure, fine. Thanks.

Really, Whirlpool?

First of all, I find it hard to believe that, in the whole multinational company that makes dryers, you don't have anyone who can say, "There's a bolt under the drum. You can't see it from the front. You have to stick your hand in there, totally blind, and feel around for it." Or whatever the problem is. I don't know, I haven't figured it out yet, and my dryer is still in frickin' pieces.

Second, I didn't ask you for help in purchasing a new dryer. I need to get ONE PART off, then I can repair your broken-down dryer MYSELF. Well... assuming I can get it all back together again. But you designed this dryer with no rear panel access. Thanks a heap.

Third, they actually caused more frustration than they addressed. As I shopped around, the discount ended up being probably $50 less than Lowe's, Home Depot, HH Gregg, and Best Buy - although Lowe's has a price match guarantee, and I didn't check to see if they'd honor this one. I appreciate that Whirlpool reached out. I appreciate that they offered a discount. But the follow-through of their outreach went from "We can help," to "J/K we're not going to help. Give us money."

That's terrible in several ways. First, it's tone deaf. Second, it ignores my actual request. Third, offering to help me find repair services in my area tells me that you think I'm an idiot who can't use Google or Yelp. Or even the Yellow Pages, for you throwbacks out there.

Finally, it reeks of sales management ambition. You just know that about five years ago some 25-year-old junior territory manager made a very nervous presentation to senior management called "Using the Social Media Sales Funnel to Eliminate Missed Opportunities." Buzzwords and phrases included "Millenials," "revenue impact," "meet them where they are" and "controlling the conversation." All the senior management cheered at this new, extra-super-crass way of moving a few dozen extra units every year, and the junior territory manager was given a raise and a promotion to Associate Sales Director for North America. Now the Boomers at the top introduce him as their "social media guru," and he actually puts that on his name badge at conferences. "Dave, Whirlpool, Social Media Guru." All the while, some NEW 25-year-old junior territory manager named Logan is watching for an opening for his OWN presentation titled, "Social Media 2.0: Closing the Sales Gap." Dave better hope one of those lingering Boomers retires in the next few months so that people start to shuffle upwards again. Hope you catch the wave, Dave.

Hmm... Maybe I overthink things. Maybe I had inflated expectations. Maybe my frustration with the repair process is clouding my ability to appreciate the $50 discount on the fictitious dryer - fictitious because, as I told them in our DM conversation, buying a new dryer isn't in the budget right now. It might as well be a $50 discount on a Lear Jet for all the difference it makes.

Eventually, I'll be able to budget for a new dryer. First I need to budget for new tires, the removal of a few suspicious moles, and some minor dental work.

But when I do go shopping for a new dryer... I think I'll go with Maytag.

AUGUSTA, GA. - I really enjoyed The Metro Spirit's article on online yard/garage sale forums. I'm a member of three of them, and I have found them very useful. Better than Craigslist (in that you rarely show up to buy a couch only to find that "couch" was that week's code word for prostitutes), online yard sale forums are usually Facebook groups where you can sell your stuff - or buy other people's stuff - and hardly ever get murdered. Yay!

Emerson and I are clearing out clutter. Clothes and shoes that haven't been worn in forever, books, DVDs, toys, etc. We've been very fortunate to find buyers who are interested, and we're hoping, over time, to turn this into a nice chunk of change to finance a visit to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter next year for her 11th birthday. You don't even know how badly we BOTH want to go.

But despite the fact that I love those stupid sites, and I have had mostly very good experiences with them, I have found some frustrations... mainly, women who engage in a kind of histrionic bait-and-switch that makes me want to tear off their acrylic nails and color in their highlights. Oh, yes, there is a profile, people, and I'm here to tell you it's upper-middle-class housewives who are the number one perpetrators of the following kinds of exchanges.

Poster: "SOLD!! Hi! I really super seriously need to buy everything you're selling immediately!"

Me (having posted four separate, distinct, and unrelated items that day for $25 each (total $100), with the caveat that I would meet buyers in specific areas): "Great! When would you like to meet?"

Poster: "I can meet every other Tuesday. How's tomorrow at 10 a.m.?"

Me: "Um, that won't work. I work full-time, 9-6."

Poster: "Oh, how sad. Well, can you bring them to my house in BFE around 6 p.m.?"

Me: "Um, no, I'll only just be leaving work at 6 p.m. And is there perhaps a more central location in which we can meet?"

Poster: "How about at 6:15 at the grocery store two blocks from my house out here in No Man's Land but still a 30-minute drive for you with traffic?"

Me: "No, that won't work for me. This might not work out. It's okay if you want to pass."

Poster: "No, I really want everything! I might be in Augusta tomorrow at 10 a.m. Will that work?"

Me: "Again, I work 9-6. But if you'll still be in town around noon, I can meet you on my lunch break."

Poster: "Thanks! And will you take $20 for everything?"

Me: "No."

Poster: "Then I'll have to pass."

Me: Bangs head against wall.




That's still better than the ones who show up and try to force their scam down your throat unexpectedly. I don't play that game.

Me: "Hi! Good to meet you!"

Poster: "Yeah, good to meet you, too! Well, everything looks good. Will you take $40 for everything?"

Me: "Um, no, we agreed to $100."

Poster (looking stricken): "But I only have $40. Will you take that?"

Me: "No."

Poster: "Will you take a check?"

Me: "No. But that's okay, I'll just move on to the next person who was interested."

Poster (grumpily): "No, wait, hang on. Let me check my glove box. Oh, look! Here's $60 right here!"

Me: "Imagine that!"

Hmph. I wish I had a magic ATM in my car.

If you want to use these sites, jump in but be smart. It's mostly good fun. I love buying secondhand for cost and conservation efforts, and I love keeping things local. But beware that there are people who prey upon naive site users. Here's my advice:

1. Document - Use Facebook messenger to always verify the purchase items and price. Then you have a written record in case they pitch a fit to the site admins when they don't get their way. The admins do not have time to get into drama, and they will just ban you and not think twice about it unless you have a compelling reason (and proof) for them not to. They are nice volunteers who just want to facilitate a useful service, and they do not have time for a full-on investigation.

2. Safety First - NEVER meet anywhere EXCEPT a well-lit, high-traffic, low-crime area. Some common locations are large retail parking lots (Target, Wal-mart, grocery stores), fast food restaurants, and places like Starbucks and Panera. Some police departments will let you use their parking lots and lobbies, and anywhere there's a sheriff's substation is a good idea.

3. Convenience is Key - Do not travel far from your home. It won't be worth it when the buyer either doesn't show up (not uncommon), or refuses the purchase for whatever reason.

4. Price Fairly - These sites are not fine furniture stores and antiques showrooms. People are looking for good deals, so price your stuff accordingly. Everyone thinks their leather sectional is worth $1,500. But is anyone willing to pay that? (Spoiler: No.)

5. Price Fairly, Part Deux - But don't come down on the price when a buyer is being irresponsible or trying to scam you. A well-mannered woman with a fresh manicure in a nice car can afford to buy your secondhand books for the less-than-one-dollar-apiece price you're asking. She's just being a horrible human being by both wasting your time and trying to pressure you into just taking what you can get in the moment.

6. Admins are Awesome - Report jerks like this to the admins EVERY TIME. They will ban them, and then they can crawl back to Freecycle like the mooches they are.

7. Document, Part Deux - When I remember, especially if the buyer seems even slightly sketchy, I run my phone's video camera or voice recorder while the transaction is going. If there are any conflicts, they are on record. That might be going a tad far, but I don't even care. Some people be crazy.

8. Admins are Mere Flawed Mortals - Freecycle has been useful in the past, but again, some people are nuts. I once offered three used bras that didn't fit me after Emerson was born, and the first to respond was a woman who wanted me to ship them to Aiken. No way. She pitched a fit, said I was discriminating against people from Aiken, and reported me to the site admin, who said it was my fault for not specifying the delivery area. Sigh... sometimes, even the admins be crazy.

Happy hunting!

AUGUSTA, GA. - Emerson is complimenting my boobs. It's weird. I tell her to cut it out, and she starts belly laughing.

"Jumping Jehoshaphat, Em. That was wildly uncomfortable."

She laughs harder, shrieking, "Jumping Jehoshaphat?! What the heck is that?!"

"You know what? I'm not even going to tell you. You can just Google it tomorrow at your fancy art school in your fancy computer lab while all we had was stupid Oregon Trail on 5-inch floppy discs."

"Oregon Trail? What's that?"

"A video game. Basically, every computer lab was a choice between either doing typing programs or murdering an innocent digital family as they traveled across the prairie to a new homestead."

"Which one did you choose?"

"Well, I never actually learned how to type properly, so... "

"That's hilarious! So, you didn't have the internet?"

"Nope."

"That's sad."

"Well, but we got to ride dinosaurs to school, so it all worked out."

My senior portrait. I was a badass.

"Mom..."

"What?"

"You didn't ride a dinosaur."

"Prove it."

"Mom! Dinosaurs are extinct!"

"Because they all died on the Oregon Trail. My bad."

"Mom..."

"I should have taken typing. Maybe they'd still be alive."

"MOM!"

"What?"

"... You know what? Nothing. I like your crazy stories. Tell me another one about the old days."

"They're not that old, Em."

"They are to me."

"Fair enough. Let me tell you about my friend who lost an eye to her crimping iron."

"What?! What's a crimping iron? How did she lose her eye?"

"It was back in the 80s. It's like a flat iron, but it made a crimping pattern in your hair. It's hot and you put it near your face, so... accidents happen. Anyway, we called her Crimp-Eye Kristen."

"Did she really lose an eye?"

"Oh, yes. And then she couldn't see the dinosaurs. So, sadly, she's not with us anymore."

AUGUSTA, GA. - Emerson's digestive issues are a constant source of conversation in my household. Bohr and Einstein we are not. But she was born with digestive issues, and was recently very sick, so it's necessary to "monitor her output."

However, I might be too comfortable with this aspect of motherhood. She took a bathroom break at Costco that stretched longer than is normal. So I checked on her, because MOMS ARE AWESOME.

"Em?" I called.

"Yeah?" she answered from behind a closed stall.

"How's the poop going, Doodle?" I asked.

"Mom! Ugh! Can you please not ask me about my poo in public bathroom?"

"Okay, sorry.  ...   ...  How's your stock portfolio, Em? Making some good investments?"

"STOP IT, MOM."

AUGUSTA, GA. - I waited two years after my divorce to date again, because I wanted my daughter to be comfortable with the idea.

She was maybe a little bit too comfortable.

     "Mom, I want to meet them before you go out with them."

     "Uh... that's... that's not really the way it works, Doodle."

     "I have to make sure they're going to be nice to you."

     "That's my job, Em. To make sure I pick someone who's going to be nice to you."

     "Wull... we're a team. You always say that."




I do always say that. So I've developed an online questionnaire for potential suitors. Emerson will be signing off on applicants of whom she approves.

I'm kidding, of course.

Anyway, I thought the end of my first relationship, post-divorce, was going to hurt a lot. But it didn't. I met a guy. We dated for a few months, but we knew we weren't headed in the same direction in life. We had fun, but things were winding down, and it ended - awkwardly, amid some dishonesty (boo, guys, just talk to us). But, ultimately, I had an okay time. Easiest breakup ever.

I was lucky. Breakups are rarely easy. There's a person in your life and then, suddenly, there isn't. It can throw one for a loop, and spark a lot of soul-searching and questioning of self-worth.

Y'all, don't do that to yourself. Unless your relationship has been interrupted by some divine comedy of errors, you probably played this thing out as far as it can go. It's time to get on with your life.



Keeping in mind that I don't know jack, here are some things I think we should avoid after a breakup:

1. If it hurts, don't pretend you’re fine
Shut up, you're not fine. Unless you're a sociopath - are you a sociopath? No. So don't jump right back into dating. I'm actually fine, but I'm still giving myself time before I dip my toe back in the dating waters. I'm not lonely, my life isn't lacking, and I have no desperate need to check anything romantic off my bucket list. I'm fulfilled by my platonic and familial relationships, by the work I've chosen to pursue, by my outside interests. I'm happy. I'll date when I feel like it might be fun and fulfilling. Right now... I'm having fun with my people.

2. Don't spend all your time replaying events in your head
But DO look for useful bits of insight. I learned a lot that I had forgotten about dating from this experience - about communication styles and expectations, about boundaries and family ties. And it has reminded me to be even more cautious than I already am. Look, relationships are hard. Forty percent of them experience infidelity. It's a bit of a crap shoot. When you fall in love with someone, what you're really saying is, "I'm going to give you the power to hurt me more than anyone else. I trust you'll keep it to a minimum." That's daunting. So make good choices. And we make good choices by learning from our mistakes. For example, it's a bad idea to date a person whose life goals don't align with mine, and whose education and life stage are so different that the disparity sometimes halted conversations in their tracks. 

3. Don't sleep together
Argh, no. Take a walk. Buy some batteries. Or, if it's the kind of thing you're into, find someone new. That's not for me, but have fun if it's for you. Bottom line is that no one on his or her deathbed has ever said, "Man, if only I'd had sex with so-and-so one more time, I'd be dying really happy." No, no, no. You're just complicating matters, and dragging out the process.



4. Don't play out your drama on social media
You're embarrassing yourself, and we're all cringing behind our keyboards.

5. Don't make big decisions
Do not pack up and move out of state, shave your head, buy something outrageously expensive, quit your job, or get a face tattoo. Everything you do right now is influenced by that pain in your chest. And nothing but time, honesty, and self-love are going to relieve it. Wait it out.

6. Don't forget to have fun
Delete your Netflix queue. Go to dinner with friends. Try a new hobby. Explore. There's a big ol' world out there just waiting for you to enjoy it. I'm so looking forward to spring on the Canal towpath, to watching my daughter self-pilot a kayak on the Savannah River for the first time, to finding time for friends and family, and to reading some really good books I haven't had time for lately. There is much about life that is wonderful. Your breakup is not one of those things. Focus on the wonderful things.



7. Don't get back together
Hopefully, you broke up over a solid, well-reasoned issue, and had a calm, rational, positive talk about it. If you didn't have a good reason to break up, but you dumped your ex anyway (or were dumped by your ex), there might some maturity, communication, or other issues for one of you to work on. Getting back together is not going to help.

8. Don't seek revenge
Come on. It doesn't matter what he or she did while you were dating. Trying to get some kind of revenge by badmouthing your ex or damaging his or her property or career is just going to give you more to deal with than if you just let yourself feel the hurt and move forward. If you get angry, act like a fool, then try to move on, you'll have to deal with your own guilt on top of everything else. I'm lucky to have been at a point where the breakup was, essentially, mutual. So this wasn't an issue. But I've seen it play out embarrassingly in the past.


9. Don't throw in the towel
Sure, take a break from dating for as long as you need. There's no rush. You're not going to die alone. You have wonderful friends and family, and romantic love is not a necessity for us to achieve happiness. In fact, as opposed to depending upon it to provide happiness to you, romantic love is more likely to come along when you've already achieved happiness. So chill out, but don't go get a bunch of cats. They're adorable, but they will straight up eat your face the moment you die. These are not the kind of relationships in which you should invest. I mean, I love my two little face-eaters, but I have no illusions that the feeling is mutual.

And finally...

10. Don't fail to forgive yourself
You might have engaged in one, several, or all of the above behaviors. That's okay. Take a deep breath, remind yourself that you are only a mere mortal, and do better next time.

AUGUSTA, GA. - 

Q: "Did you get that save-the-date email?"

Me: "Probably. I'm working my way through all of the emails I missed. I'll try to get to it before I leave at 2 p.m."

C: "Why are you even here? Don't you have, like, pneumonia and the flu?"

Me: "Dysentery. Life's hard on the Oregon Trail."

C: "I'm sorry your ox died."

Me: "Thanks."

AUGUSTA, GA. - I shower and wash my hair every day, unless I'm sick. It's a necessity of life, with having the oily hair and skin I was gifted by genetics.

I have some favorite products that I use regularly. They generally have some similar characteristics:
1. Relatively inexpensive.
2. Really good at what they do.

Dr. Bronner's soaps are one of my all-time favorite products, and I've been using them since I was about 15 years old, off and on. They are made with organic oils, contain no detergents, are vegan, are certified Fair Trade, and are packaged in 100 percent post-consumer recycled (PCR) plastic bottles. I don't know many other products I can buy that don't make me feel like I'm helping to destroy the planet for my daughter.

And if there's something you need to clean, these versatile soaps can do it: laundry, people, pets, dishes, surfaces, toilets. You can find posts online that tell you how to make inexpensive and effective cleaning solutions, like this one: http://www.care2.com/greenliving/12-great-ways-to-use-castile-soap.html.

The peppermint and tea tree soaps are my favorites, and are readily available at New Life Natural Foods, EarthFare, Whole Foods, and sometimes Publix. They smell so fresh, last forever, and really do what you expect them to do, which is to clean all the things.

Except... I do not use them as shampoo very often, because I haven't figured out a configuration that doesn't make my hair feel like hay. They are very strong and thus can be drying. So be sure to dilute with water and to moisturize.

Otherwise it is a very versatile, useful, affordable product. And while it might not work as shampoo, you know those commercials in the 80s and 90s that said, "Hey, ladies, do you ever get that not-so-fresh feeling?" Well, there is nothing fresher than peppermint ladybits!

Sorry, Mentos. Dr. Bronner's is The Freshmaker.

AUGUSTA, GA. - So, Emerson is a good student. But, right now, she has a low B in social studies.

"Emerson, what is this grade about?" I asked her, genuinely confused.

"I dunno," she said. "Social studies is boring."

Boring? History is storytelling, at which she excels! I take her to the historic reenactments, Living History Park, former Confederate forts - heck, I WORK at a university with historic cannons (on which she has spent years climbing if I am not looking), which sit in front of an historic former armory. Her father has a degree in history. I worked at the Renaissance Faire - which, now that I type that out, is much less an endorsement of an enjoyment of history, and more like a Badge of Nerd Honor. ... But the point is, we've tried to make history a part of her life from day one.

"But... you talk to me about history all the time," I said. "You tell me all the stories, and you sound so excited."

"Yeah, they're good stories. But I feel like it's all fake, since we lost all our history when the library burned down in Egypt."

Wait, what?

Turns out, she didn't realize when the library was destroyed. After I told her it was "in Egypt, during the time of Pharoahs and pyramids," a light went on.

Maybe I should stop telling her one-off stories out of context. Next she'll think the Trojan Horse was a petting zoo.

AUGUSTA, GA. - So we took some students up to the state capitol to meet with our legislators and talk about issues in education.

We set up our table with our beautiful banners, university literature, and logo giveaways to build our branding in people's minds. We were giving away mini bottles of hand sanitizer. Because I am big dork, I like to come up with something punny to say when people come by, to get their attention and encourage them to take a logo item.

"Would you like some hand sanitizer?" I asked a passing delegation, with a smile. "Politics can be a dirty business!"

One of the gentlemen smirked at me: "Yeah, we know."

It was a delegation representing the Cherokee nation.

Sigh... I didn't spend the rest of the day hiding under the table, but I wanted to.

AUGUSTA, GA.

I'm microwaving lunch when a co-workers walks in.

Him: "That smells spicy."

Me: "It's just crappy Lean Cuisine."

Him: "That's redundant."

AUGUSTA, GA. - Emerson decided that she didn't want a party for her 10th birthday. She wanted to go to visit family in Atlanta, and go to the Georgia Aquarium and the World of Coke with her BFF, Kayla.

We stayed at my parents' house and took MARTA into the city to avoid traffic, parking, and the very real possibility that I might get us lost and end up in Chattanooga. It's just how I do.

Kayla had never ridden MARTA before, and it had been a couple of years since Emerson had ridden MARTA. We parked at Indian Creek station and paid $15 total for round-trip Breeze cards for the three of us, which is roughly what we'd have paid in parking fees and gas, anyway. They were fascinated by the turnstiles, the escalators, the train, and the scenery. At every stop, they reported back to me how many stops we had left. Thanks, guys.

We exited at Five Points, one stop before we needed to. For the tourist attractions around Centennial Olympic Park, you should exit at the CNN Center station. But we wanted to hook around to the McDonald's and get breakfast to eat on our walk. It was cold outside and utterly wonderful. The girls felt all grown-up walking through the big city. If they'd had hats (and were old enough to get the reference) they might have spun around and tossed their them in the air.


Emerson kept wanting to tip everyone. The police officer who confirmed our directions, the McDonald's cashier, the homeless guy who "helped" us cross the street by shouting at us to "watch the [eff] out for the [effing] bus" that was coming...

I don't know why she wanted to do that. For safety reasons, I wasn't carrying cash, so she was disappointed in me all day. Apparently I am not classy. Whatever. Kids get weird ideas in their heads. Also, thanks, homeless man. That bus actually scraped the curb we'd been standing on not 10 seconds earlier.

We cut through Centennial Olympic Park, which was a lovely walk. But the two playgrounds locked us into their tractor beams and pulled in the girls. We were literally right across the street from the Aquarium, and could not escape for almost an hour.

But we still got to the Aquarium right as they opened because of my momtastic planning. And we had pre-printed our discount tickets, so we didn't have to stand in line.

Get discount tickets here: http://team.georgia.gov/
Or here: https://www.workingadvantage.com/
Or here: https://www.ticketsatwork.com/tickets/
Or keep an eye on Groupon.
Also, consider a City Pass, which is well worth the money.

The aquarium fills up quickly - with people, not water - so you want to prioritize a few activities. I recommend this order of importance:

1. AT&T Dolphin Tales
2. Animal feedings
3. Touch pools
4. Penguin walk-through
5. The 4D movie: Deepo's 4D Undersea Wondershow
6. Ocean Voyager tunnel

If you can get to the first dolphin show of the day and the first animal feeding times of the day, you will have a much more peaceful experience. The first shows and feedings are way less crowded. Show times are posted online, and animal feeding times are posted daily at the aquarium.

The touch pools usually include one with sharks and rays, which was closed due to remodeling this time. But the second touch pools with sea stars and anemones was also enchanting.



The penguin walk-through includes a clear bubble inside the penguin exhibit, in which you can stand and get up close and personal. Take a selfie with the goofy seabirds.



AT&T Dolphin Tales was initially a special add-on expense. But now it's included in every ticket. That means whereas people initially began lining up for seats about 20 minutes before the show, now the hallway begins filling up an hour before the show starts. Children can get impatient. I foresaw a great disturbance in the Force, so I had the two girls go watch the 4D movie while I stood in line. Is that the best idea? Mmmm... I don't know. I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life. But it worked for us.

The show is pretty cheesy. I dubbed it "Thomas Theatercamp and the Xanadu Pirates." The storyline is something about a star-spinner (Thomas Theatercamp, in all his summer stock glory) and some sea monsters, and you have to raise a sunken ship by singing, and... look, we're all really there to see dolphins doing cool stuff. I realize this isn't AT&T Dolphin University, but I'd rather see a show where we could learn something about dolphins, ocean life, and maybe conservation. Get out of here with your weird version of "Starlight Express-On-the-Waterfront."

No photos allowed in the auditorium. This is a promo shot.

My favorite part of the show was any time a dolphin would refuse to do what the trainers asked it to do. Tell 'em, you dolphin rebel! The trainer would just kind of have to wait for the dolphin to decide to get back on track.

At the end of the show, the trainers stand at the corners and answer questions. We asked one about her training, the dolphins' training, and finally about the animals' occasional refusal to perform.

"These are intelligent animals, and everything they do is voluntary," the trainer said. "If they don't want to perform a trick, we don't make them."

Fine. Be all nice to them. I guess I won't be rescuing a dolphin and taking it home under my coat today.

Anyhoodle, I let the girls set the priorities, because today was not about having an agenda. It was about doing things they enjoyed, however they enjoyed them. So we hit all of the above, except we skipped the Ocean Voyager tunnel. But we did that because I knew a secret from a previous visit...


There's an event hall upstairs. In it is a smaller, private window that lets you observe the Beluga whales. This event hall is not open to the public. But we asked nicely - prepared for rejection - and a kind janitorial staff member allowed us a few minutes with the belugas. Then a manager kicked us out of there. But he directed us to an adjacent hallway with a window for observing the Ocean Voyager tank. They let us hang with our Ocean Voyager peeps for as long as we liked.

It was quiet, it was private, it was heaven. We grinned as the giant whale sharks followed the inflatable feeding boat around like a puppy begging for snacks. We laughed as a smaller stingray repeatedly swam up to the glass and thwacked against it, waving its fins and smiling at us as it slid slowly past. One of the janitorial staff told us that the same stingray plays with her as she cleans the window's glass every morning. We pointed out giant grouper, sawfish, and more. We gasped at its monumental size as the whale shark swam so close to us that it slid against the glass.


"Mom, this is such a great experience!" my daughter exclaimed, as a giant manta ray did dramatic flips in front of us.

"This is so cool, I feel like I'm going to cry," her friend said.

"Me, too," said Emerson.

And I really don't know what more you can ask for your child on his or her birthday.

Augusta, GA. - I picked Emerson up from school after her Valentine's Day party.

Emerson: "Mom, I got a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup for you."

Me: "Ooh, thanks, Doodle!"

Emerson: "But I ate it."

Me: "Ugh! Rawr!"

Emerson (cackling): "I couldn't help it! It just fell into my mouth! And I couldn't stop chewing!"

Well, I think we all know how that works about once a month every month.

AUGUSTA, GA. - Sigh. You know how we all have those days where we are definitely NOT the person that Mr. Rogers knows we can be?


LOL, no. Not that Mr. Rogers.


Yes, this one. Umm... wait a minute - what are you doing, Mr. Rogers?

Anyway. One recent Sunday was, for about an hour, that day for me.

We'd spent 10 hours the day before walking around Atlanta. We had done ALL THE THINGS. Then, the next morning, I went to meet my fabulous friend, Penny, for brunch. I get to see her like twice a year, and that sucks. So it was a good weekend. I was in an awesome mood.

But while parking at the Decatur square, I realized I was low on gas. No problem, I thought. I'll hit a station on the way back.

Except... there wasn't one that was open. Not on Church Street, not on North Decatur, and then suddenly I was on Hwy 78, where there definitely wasn't going to be one. The red light was glaring at me as I hit I-285, the needle below empty. Blarg! Where was there a gas station?

I got off at Memorial Drive and took a right, drove for forever before I found a Shell station and pulled in with maybe 0.125 gallons of gas left in the tank... IF that.

The first pump was out of order.

The second pump was out of gas.

Out of the eight pumps, six did not work for one reason or another. Two were occupied.

I pulled in behind a man with a red and white pickup truck. He was moving at the speed of lead, but how long can it really take to get gas?

Apparently, it can take donkey's years, because this guy might as well have enjoyed a candlelit dinner with a solo violinist for the amount of time it took him.

He looked at me, directly in the eyes, and I nodded and gave him a friendly smile, because that is how I do. He looked at me a second longer, then turned back to the pump. Then got back in his truck. Then got back out of his truck. Then looked at the pump again.

I giggled, turned off my car and pulled out my phone. Might as well return a couple of texts...

I looked up a little while later. He was just sliding the hose into his gas tank. Wait, what? I glanced at the clock. I'd been sitting there for 10 minutes. Umm... okay, buddy... I shook my head and chuckled. Whatever.

I turned back to my phone. A few minutes later, I heard the pump *kachunk* off. The man was looking at the hose in consternation. Then he looked back at the pump. Then he looked back at the hose.

What was this guy doing?

I looked at the clock. I was an hour late getting back. I'd now been waiting at this pump for 20 minutes. Ugh.

Back at the pump, this guy and the pump were apparently having a battle of wits. I am pretty sure he lost. He kept looking back and forth between the hose and the pump.

Eventually, he got into his truck. Then he got back out again. Then he removed the hose. Then he hooked it back onto the pump. Then he got back in his truck. Sweet! My turn! I flicked on my engine...

... and he got back out of his truck and examined the pump again.

What? I sighed and put my head down on my steering wheel. I turned off my engine. I had a bad feeling.

When I looked up, he was sauntering into the gas station at roughly the same rate as a sea slug. I watched him enter. Then I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, he came back out. He got into his truck. Then he started doing... something. I couldn't tell. But I knew what he wasn't doing: LEAVING.

I flipped on the engine, which started with a sputter. Yikes. And I waited.

And waited.

Seriously, what was this dude doing? I might have gone to another gas station, but I didn't see another one nearby and I couldn't risk running out of gas. There were now two cars behind me, and three behind the car at the only other working pump. I literally had no other option but to sit there and wait. And this guy was totally unconcerned.

He got back out of his truck, holding a lottery ticket. He looked me in the eye. I gave him a look that I think said, "Aaaaaand just where are you going?" And he sauntered back into the gas station, glancing around at the now three cars behind me.

Man... seriously?

A woman pulled out of line behind me and sped off, flipping him off as she drove by. He didn't even notice. It had been 30 minutes since I pulled in behind him.

I waited some more. Finally, he came out, still moving like a turtle.

Honestly, the only thing comforting about these slow-walking people is that they will be the ones between me and the zombies when the apocalypse happens. And this guy was so slow he was almost walking backwards. Sorry, sir. You're definitely zombie food.

Finally - finally! - he climbed back in his truck.

I flipped on my engine again.

And then he got back out of his freaking truck.

Oh. My. God. What the ever-loving French toast is he doing?


Two cars behind me, a driver honked one long, frustrated blast and threw up his hands in frustration. I hear ya, buddy.

I looked at this guy and frowned in consternation. He looked at me. Then he started walking over to my car. Warily, I cracked my window.

"Hey... were you waiting for this pump?" he asked.

I blinked at him, and reflexively glanced behind me at the vehicles lined up.

"Uh, yes, sir."

"Oh."

He stood there.

"Well, I didn't know."

He kept standing there.

"Well... I think we're all waiting for the pump, sir."

He looked behind me, and then glared at me. "Well, how was I supposed to know that?"

And that's where I kind of lost it.

"Are you kidding me?" I snapped. "Why else would we be here?"

"I didn't know!" he exclaimed.

"Just... could you please just move your truck? I am literally about to run out of gas this second."

"How am I supposed to know why you're parked behind me? You could have had a bunch of reasons!"

"Like what, man? We're all just trying to get gas and be on our way. Can you move your car, please?"

The owner of the gas station came out of the station and observed the situation. I looked at him and gestured towards the driver trying to indicate that he should maybe help move him along. Angry honking man sped off from behind me, around the pump, past the owner. He honked again as he left, a long blast of wordless noise that improves nothing on this planet. Ever.

The truck driver was still standing at my front bumper, grumbling to himself. I stared at him, incredulous. He looked up at me, set his jaw, and called me a bitch.

Oh. Hell. No.

"Move your car!" I shouted.

He glared at me again.

"NOW!"

The truck driver stomped to his car and drove off. The woman behind me was laughing hysterically. But she'd only been here for maybe 10 minutes, just enough to observe the last part of this nonsense.

I pulled up to the pump, and the owner materialized beside me like a ninja.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"Sorry, tell you what, sir?" I asked, startled.

"Tell me that you wanted to get gas. I could have helped you." He looked at me like I was an idiot. He could have helped me? I mean, few people really need help with this task, right? Besides the guy who had just left, of course. It was so ridiculous that for a moment I thought, "Wait, am I in the wrong, here? Did I make a mistake?"

NO. I did not make a mistake. I followed every cultural and social protocol that Americans use at a gas station. It is not complicated. Pull up to pump. Get gas. Vacate pump. Wait in line if the pump is occupied. Promptly yield pump to those behind you once you have finished filling your tank. Why didn't I tell him that I wanted to get gas? Because I am at your gas station! It should have been obvious!

But I did not tell him that. I almost choked to death on the amount of effort it took to not respond to him with irritation. He didn't observe the entire situation, so he couldn't have known the extent of the stupid.

"I am not sure what you could have done, sir," I said.

"Well, I could have turned on another pump for you," he said.

"Wait, what? So... they're not... broken?" I stared at him.

"No, I just turn them off. I don't like too many pumps going at once."

I sighed, and shoved the hose into my gas tank.

I think am just going to buy a camel.

Bonus if it comes with '90s Brendan Fraser.

AUGUSTA, GA. - I'm talking to a coworker.

Her: "My sister's pregnant. She's 22 weeks."

Me: "Oh, that's great! Congratulations!"

Her: "Oh, it's her third. Nobody cares."

Me: "oooookaaaayyy...."

Apparently how Emerson views herself.

AUGUSTA, GA. - Emerson made a huge mess. It's not the first time, and it won't be the last. But she acted completely incompetent in cleaning it up.

"Emerson, go get something to scrub this," I said, for the third time.

She looked balefully at the mess and slumped her shoulders. And just stood there.

...

       ...

             ...

"Emerson. Help me clean this up, please."

I wasn't even making her do it all on her own. It was an accident, and when people have accidents, we help them. That is what humans do. Some people are all "blah blah survival of the fittest," but I think that is just them excusing themselves for being big jerkfaces. Humans have survived bigger, stronger predators and exposure to the elements for thousands of years due to our abilities to organize and cooperate - not our ability to shove someone else out of the way and deny responsibility.

So she needed to get with the program. We are helpers in this house. That is WWJD, for crying out loud.

Instead, this is what I got:

AUGUSTA, GA. - Whenever I get a sample of a skincare, hair care or other beauty product, I am prepared for snake oil in a bottle. I can't count the number of "anti-aging" serums I have received. They're usually of no particular benefit (anything Garnier puts out for skin) or just pale imitations of better products already on the market (Freeman Beauty Vita-K). Generally, I like to stick with a couple of tried-and-true products for my skin: pretty much anything Olay (but in particular, their 7 Effects line) and Neutrogena put out.

Nivea's products are also good quality. However, they're harder to find in this area, so I haven't gotten into them. But I bought a Nivea moisturizing facial gel while I was in Chicago back in 1996 that I loved so much I hoarded it for a year. Alas, they don't sell it anymore.

Even though I have loved some of Nivea's products, I was very skeptical when I received a sample of Nivea Body In-Shower Nourishing Body Lotion for Very Dry Skin. It's moisturizer that you put on while you're in the shower. GET A SAMPLE HERE.

Basically, you do your shower routine. Then, when you're just about done - maybe right after you put your conditioner in your hair, but before you rinse it out - you step out of the running water and apply this stuff all over. Then you finish your shower routine, and rinse it off. Dry as normal and go about your business.

Well... that just sounded like bullcrap to me. I mean, you're in the shower and you wash it off. How can it moisturize? Get out of my bathroom with that nonsense.

But if I don't moisturize daily, my body gets really dry and itchy in winter. It's annoying, and I'll find myself absently scratching my heinie. That's not good. So I'm always looking for a great moisturizer.

Y'all, I love it. It went on easily, rinsed off easily, and actually did what it said it was going to do. It didn't leave a greasy or slippery film on my skin or on my bathtub. It has almost no fragrance, so it won't activate allergies and sensitivities, nor compete with your soap or perfume.

I used it for a week and it didn't gunk up my towel. It also didn't stay on the surface of my skin so that it got all in my hair when I was blow drying it. And my skin felt great all day. In fact, every day I used it, my skin felt better than before.

My skin did feel very slightly tacky when I was drying off. Just a little. But not as much as when I tried Johnson's Baby Oil Gel. And I didn't have to walk around mostly naked until my lotion absorbed (mothers of boys, how do you do it?).

Are there better moisturizers out there? Well, sure, olive oil is a better moisturizer. But who wants to smell like caprese salad all day? (Now I want some caprese salad. Thanks, Internet.)

I can heartily recommend  Nivea Body In-Shower Nourishing Body Lotion. But I probably won't continue to use it. Because although I really, really like it, I just can't justify the $15 price tag for a 13.5 oz. bottle.

Stick with the cost-effective old standards, Eucerin and Cetaphil, both of whom are also recommended by Consumer Reports, and range from $9-$13 for a 16.9 oz. bottle. I lean towards  Vaseline Intensive Care because it has almost no residue, also scores well with Consumer Reports, and currently costs less than $5 for a 10 oz. bottle.

As always, use what works for you.