Honesty may not always be the best policy

Me: Sabrina, you have such gorgeous long eyelashes.

Sabrina: So do you.

Me: No, I don't. See?

S: Oh, wow, um, they're fine. Not as long as mine, but they're really . . .

Me: Shut up. I see the look of pity on your face.

S: Well, at least you match. You don't have eyebrows either.

Me: Nice.

S: Look on the bright side. At least you won't get an old lady's beard.

It must be tasty

Overheard while driving:

Friend: I like poetry.

Sabrina: I write poetry.

Calvin: I eat poetry.

Goodbyes

A few weeks ago my grandmother died. It was not unexpected. She was 87 and had not been in good health for a very long time. Still, expected or not, it is hard to lose a loved one. I have been thinking a lot about her lately, remembering.

I loved going to my grandma's house. It was truly a magical place for a young child. My grandma loved collecting things. Over the years, her house became very crowded, but it was a treasure trove for a young girl. You never knew what you might find when you opened a door, looked under a bed, or pulled open a drawer. I can remember spending many hours looking through drawers of my grandma's jewelry, trying on piece after piece and feeling very glamorous.

Out of the multitude of things she collected, I specifically remember spoons (purchased from every place she visited), wind chimes, roses, and books. Her family room had shelves and shelves of books, most of them either religious study books or cookbooks. It's the cookbooks I'd like to talk about today.

I have never particularly enjoyed cooking. I can follow a recipe just fine, but I don't find a lot of joy in the actual mechanics of cooking. It's a chore that has to be done every day. However, I do like looking at cookbooks. I love looking at the pictures, thinking about various tastes and textures, and planning elaborate meals in my mind. I subscribe to a few different magazines solely devoted to cooking; this despite the fact that I rarely follow through with creating any of those meals. Lack of follow-through has never stopped me from clipping recipe after recipe. I have often wondered why I do this.

I inherited some of my grandma's cookbooks. I was especially excited to be in possession of the Betty Crocker Cookie Cookbook which I loved looking at as a kid. One day not long ago, I sat on the couch with my grandma's cookie book for a trip down memory lane. When I opened the book, literally hundreds of recipes clipped from magazines and newspapers fell out. I immediately went to my cookbook shelf and pulled out all of Grandma's books. Sure enough, every single one of them was full to bursting with clipped recipes. What do you know? I inherited my penchant for clipping recipes from her!

My vague sense of embarrassment over my silly little habit has vanished. No longer do I feel guilty about buying magazines I never really use. No longer do I feel frustrated about clipping recipes I will never actually make. Because now every time I clip a recipe and slip it into one my cookbooks, I remember my lovely grandmother and know a little piece of her lives on.

I grudgingly accept your right to exist

Rosie's first boyfriend broke up with her a couple of weeks ago. Since then we've all suffered: Rose because her heart was broken; the rest of the family because we have been subjected to Justin Bieber's "Baby" over and over and over again. But there have been signs she might be coming out of her funk. Instead of silent tears pouring down her face, she's been really angry and snapping and snarling at everyone in the family. This evening she had the following conversation with her father:

Rose: Dad, it doesn't bother me as much to be around "Brick" anymore. My friend said I should talk to him and tell him that so it won't be as awkward when we have to do stuff at school together.

David: So you are ready to tell him that you are done wishing him a horrible death in a pit of fire, and you acknowledge that he has a right to exist on the planet?

Rose: Yes! Can I actually tell him that?

David: It's not my business.

Rose: (smiles)

*UPDATE* Ice Cream! We're Gonna Have Ice Cream!

Less than a week after my husband sent this pointed letter to Blood Source, we received this in the mail.

We laughed, shook our heads, and then high-fived because, hey, free ice cream, right? But then we both looked at each other and said, "Wait a minute . . . Do you think?" No, we thought. It couldn't be. But then again . . . Which has led to this online poll. After reading the above letter, do you think that:

(A) This is a sincere if pathetic conciliatory attempt to placate a faithful, but apparently really annoyed, donor by well-meaning staff who just did not get the point at all.

OR

(B) This a subtly sarcastic poke back by someone clever who thought, "You know, from the tone of his note, what I think this guy REALLY wants is a sappy hand-written note and an errand! But don't overdo it in case he's just an annoying jerk who won't get it and will complain to the CEO or something."

We're raising a con artist

(At soccer practice)

Kids: Hi, Coach David! Welcome back! How was your trip to the moon?

David: Um . . . great. Thanks for asking.

(a few weeks later)

David: Kids, I just wanted to let you know that I won't be at practice on Thursday or the game on Saturday. But your other coach will be here to take good care of you. I'll see you next week.

Soccer kids: Okay, Coach David. Are you going to the moon again?

David: No, I just got back from the moon three weeks ago, so it'll be while before I go again.

Kids: We'll miss you. Have a good trip.

(Later...)

David: Calvin, do you have any idea why those kids keep asking me me about going to the moon?

Calvin: Maybe.

David: Care to enlighten me?

Calvin: Last time you were on a business trip, my teammates asked me where you were. I said you were an astronaut and taking a trip to the moon.

David: And they bought that?

Calvin: Apparently.

The needle wasn't the only thing that was sharp today.

(guest post from my husband)

Dear BloodSource,

As a long time reasonably-regular whole blood donor, I would like to comment on the on-line rewards program:

I certainly don't donate for the gifts. But there is a nice touch about being handed a little something along with a sincere "thank you" from an engaged employee after they have poked your finger and stuck a big needle in your arm. Or getting a personal acknowledgement when you hit a "big" milestone - 5 pints, 10, 20, whatever.

Having just donated my 19th with BloodSource, I was directed to the rewards site, where I see that I get zero credit for my last however-many-donations in the last few years, but I got 200 points for this one and starting now I can get another T-shirt with just 700 more points.

Great. My donation now earns me a buck or two of credit towards eventually earning a cheap "thank you" gift, which I now have to log in and order myself. As if I needed another errand to do. It's not enough that I take an hour to donate in the first place, and have to skip the gym for a couple days after, now I have to go shop, too?

I feel like someone's not only insultingly trying to incent my donation with a ridiculously small amount of cheap crap, but is actually giving a specific value to my donation of precisely 200 points worth of said cheap crap. If you are trying to enhance the idea that my donation is worth "a lot" in the subjective sense, 200 points on the cheap-crap-scale pretty much  undermines that message. "Yes, You do save lives. Save six more and you can order a coffee mug!" If I save 60 lives, I'll be up to something nice!

Or my donation isn't worth an actual token of thanks from a person, but you'll let me take another half-hour of my time to go on line and order an ice cream certificate if I really want to. "Please, pretty please, won't you take my blood today? I REALLY need a new mouse pad, and I only have three more pints to go!!!"

So I doubt I'll be visiting the rewards site again anytime soon. Don't worry, I still strongly believe in donating blood and I am happy to do so as often as I am able. But I'm not going to go spend a bunch of my time every third donation to check in and order my own $5 thank you gift.

How about this instead: I'll pretend my donation is still worth "a lot" to you, you keep the 200 "reward points", and I'll just take an extra pack of Oreos and a 2nd bottle of water on my way out of the van.

Yours truly,

David George, A-negative

(cynicism is in my blood)