Welcome...

There are two givens, when you eat Chinese food.
1.) You're going to be hungry not long after you finish it.
2.) You're going to get a nugget of "wisdom" in the form of a fortune cookie.


I had Chinese for lunch today. Somehow the cookie fell off my desk, and I stepped on it on one of my many trips to and fro my office. I figured that this would spoil the fortune. Because, you know, they change when you mistreat them, I guess. But I decided to read it anyway. Here it is. (Warning: Nugget of wisdom ahead!)





You are always welcome in any gathering.

My first thought? Wow. This fortune cookie knows me!

Then I started to think of places where some may not be so welcome. Here's what I have so far.

-The Matchbox Man at a monastery

-A mime at a Toastmasters convention

-Your parents at the nudist colony you're "just visiting" for the weekend. Suuuure, we believe that one!

-Your old high school Trig teacher at a speed dating get together You know, the one that your friend dared you to go on. Yeah right.

-A relative of yours, on a match.com meeting with you. I guess you don't have to wonder why they didn't have a "recent picture" any more, do you?

-Ms. South Carolina at a geography bee. Or a spelling bee. Or anywhere near our nation's future leaders, period. Let's just put her away for safe keeping.

-A Vietnamese man, wearing an apron, at a dog shelter. (Oh come on, it was all in good fun. I could have said something about Chinese and cats. But I just ate Chinese. I'd rather not think about that, thanks.)

-A man with a black ski mask, behind you while you're standing in line at the bank.

-Simon Cowell at a self-help seminar.

It's far more fun to think of the places people (other people that is - not me. I, for one, am always welcome) may not be so welcomed than it is to think of how you're always welcome. And you are always welcome. Except at my place. That requires an appointment. And a couple background checks. Perhaps a security clearance from the CIA. Just don't stop by, let's leave it at that.

Don't Put All Your Eggs In One Basket...

As a young (and may I say adorable) little girl, I learned the very important "Don't put all your eggs in one basket," saying was something I should have taken more notice of.

My grandfather had been in and out of the hospital for a few years, with skin cancer. For some unknown reason, I did not despise people in general (yet) and proceeded to make up decorated eggs for all of the people on his floor that would be stuck in the hospital for Easter with him. My mother begged me not to take my entire Easter basket to the hospital with us. She told me not to take all the candy with. Explained it would still be there when we returned from the hospital. But I wanted to show everyone my haul! The Easter bunny had been good to me.

We made it in and out of the hospital without any incidents. We passed out goodies to all the bed-ridden patients, the ones with no families, the people who I was so sad to think had been forgotten by their families. I left the hospital that day on a high. I had done a good deed, I had a buttload (yes, that's a measurement) of candy to spend the rest of my day getting a sugar high from, and I had a new book to read. We were almost to the parking garage when the grass reached up and grabbed me, pulled me down - tearing my tights, spilling my candy all over the grass along the side of the road, and basically taking my day down just a few notches. (read: my day had hit devastating in a quick way.)

My aunt, father, and mother stood above me. They turned their heads, they attempted to cough, anything to try to hide their laughter. But they were clearly laughing. I can recall looking up, brushing off my jelly beans and Easter eggs and tearfully asking if they thought they were okay still. The general concensus was that I was alright, so long as a dog didn't pee there. All of this was said through their laughter, of course. The moral of the story? Don't put all your (Easter) eggs in one basket. You never know what life is going to bring your way.

And if you're going to put all your eggs in one basket? Make sure your have pretty awesome parents, like mine, who will buy you some more jelly beans when you've brushed yourself off, after a hard tumble.

Drive Safe!

Driving Advice

- stay a car length behind other cars at stop lights

- always use your blinker

- using a middle finger is not to be considered a valid driving "signal"

- always wear your seat belt

- don't drink and drive (and I don't mean because you will spill!)

- stay within the speed limit

Everyone has their own personal driving habits and ideas on what rules others should obey. And we all have something that someone else does that annoys us, when they drive.

There's those of us who are annoyed as we drive by the girl who is using the rear view mirror not to check her blind spot, but to check her mascara (as she puts it on!) I promise the mirror will still be there when you stop the car, darling. Or the guy who has decided that green only means go after he's finished his conference call. Don't get me started on the texter. How many times have you been behind someone who is swerving like they're drunk only to pass them and see them texting: wut r u up 2 2nite? to his friend. (Note: If you are close enough to read their text, you're probably not watching the road. Didn't your parents teach you better?)

The driving advice my mother gave me that sticks with me most is this: drive safe. Simply stated. "Drive safe!" She would yell from the front porch, as we pulled out. This stopped shortly after it started.

A fellow teammate and I were headed to a softball tournament. "Drive safe!" I put on my seat belt, laughed a little at her broken recordness, and settled into the passenger's seat. One turn and less than a mile later, I was crawling out of a car we had just totalled and calling my mother from a cell phone to tell her we'd been in an accident.* Apparently, I have always been a smart-alec. My mom hung up, informing me that I wasn't funny (She's wrong sometimes, you know. I am funny.). At 16, you aren't really sure what to do when you've been in an accident. I thought calling your parents was a good first step. This seems to work only when you aren't an overly sarcastic child, such as I was. (I know, you're shocked.)

We made it to the softball game. I don't believe we played. We were late and slightly shell-shocked. But we made it. We also gave my mother a bit of advice that day. Be specific. She's never said "Drive safe!" from the front porch. To this day, she yells out "Arrive safe!"

Sometimes, children teach their parents!

*Despite what television would have you believe, airbags are not soft pillowy bags filled with air.

Semper Ubi Sub Ubi

Advice. The world is full of it.

There's the (common-sense) helpful type from your mother. Who reminds you to always change your underwear in case you're in a horrific accident that day. (Because that's what you're worried about if you get hit by a bus. Am I wearing cute undies today?!)

There's the unsolicited (but helpful) older gentleman at the grocery store who wants to tell you how to pick the perfect tomato. "No, honey, that's the wrong one. How's this one?" ..what? This doesn't happen to you? Either I am horrible at picking produce, or I just scream TALK TO ME! I NEED MORE FRIENDS! Because this happens often.

There's the unsolicited (also infuriating and annoying) advice about how if you don't "Open yourself up more, you're going to end up being old and alone. With a lot of cats. You don't want to be the cat lady do you?" advice from your older family members. I, for one, have talked this over with both my cat and dog. They don't think it sounds as horrible as everyone makes it seem.

There's the news warnings that serve as advice. "H1N1 will kill you. Wear this mask. That will protect you, as you type on your keyboard at work that has more germs than a toilet seat. Film at 11."

The point is - the world is full of advice. Some of it should be taken to heart, some of it should be disposed of quicker than my cat's litter box. Don't judge me. I'm working on becoming the cat lady. Remember? I have to fit in as many cat jokes as possible. Any of you who co-habitate with a cat know that I am being glared at, as I type this, by my cat. "Cat, joke, same sentence? Not cool, dude." She's hip, she calls me dude. And she approves of this blog that will include all types of advice. The kinds that make you laugh, make you think (hopefully), and also will allow you a small glimpse into the crazy place I call my own section of the world.

For today I will leave you with a fabulous piece of Latin advice: Semper ubi sub ubi. Always wear underwear. (All you Latin geeks may be laughing. The rest of the world? Thinks I've lost it. Don't worry, I'll always have my cat.)