Text Peeve

I'm all for text messaging, but I have a huge beef with the way some people text. I call it the American Goodbye.

You know - when you're watching American tv shows and they're on the phone. When the conversation is over, it's over. There are no goodbyes, or see ya laters. They just hang up! That's not the Canadian way.

Yet how many times have you been texting with someone and suddenly they're gone! No goodbye, no closure...the conversation is apparently just over. I hate (with a capital H) that! It's pretty easy to tell when a text conversation has run it's course. So it's up to one of the active participants to just kill it right then and there. I don't care if you lie to me and make up excuses, just do it! Tell me you have to go do laundry, tell me your favourite show just came on the OWN channel. Make an escape route and just be gone...but say goodbye before you do! Is that so much to ask??

I know this sounds like a Jerry Seinfeld rant, but surely I'm not alone here? I guess the reason I'm bringing this up is in part because I'm a hypocrite. Last night I was texting with someone and I just left. I should have said goodnight and I didn't. And it's eating me alive. Well that's an overstatement, it's bothering me like a mild itch from laundry detergent. Better?

You'll think about this the next time you're texting. You'll see.
Goodbye :)

Tia

Whitney, Diet Coke and Me

Like millions of people around the world, I'm in disbelief that Whitney Houston is gone. Just the other day while standing in line at the grocery store scanning the tabloids, Whitney was on the cover of more than one for the alleged return of her drug woes.

Like many from the 80's, I was a huge Whitney Houston fan. I was just a teen the first time I heard "Saving All my Love for You" on the radio. It was hair-raising and phenomenal and there was nothing else like it on the radio at that time. Prior to that song, I knew at that young age that I liked music. Hearing that song, made me LOVE music.

I remember around that time that Diet Coke was doing this contest where if you looked on the inside of the bottle cap, the little rubber thingy came out to reveal a win or no win. If it was a win, you had to dial the toll free number for a chance to win concert tickets. I remember buying endless bottles of pop, then going to the lobby of the hotel in town to use the payphones to try and win. Never did I get anything but that stupid busy signal. I must have spent every penny of my allowance on Diet Cokes for that shot to see her show. I suspect Whitney is the reason I'm a DC addict to this day.

There'll be much fodder and speculation over the next few weeks about Whitney's battle with drugs ultimately costing her life and many fingers pointing at Bobby Brown for leading her down the path of destruction. I recently watched a biography on Ricky Martin. He said something that struck me as sad. He said "I have all these millions of fans around the world, but I can count on 3 fingers the number of good, close friends I have and trust". I think Whitney was a lonely, lost soul looking to "friends" for comfort. Her friends were drugs unfortunately. And they were never very good friends to her. I think many of us are sad for her loss, but also sad because we were really rooting for her to kick those friends to the curb one day, and she just couldn't quite finish the job.

In 2009, Whitney made her comeback with the cd "I Look To You". Below, my favourite song from that cd that was Whitney to the core. Rich, soulful vocals that wrap around every word like melting butter on popcorn. In light of her death, the words hit home a little more today than they did two days ago. And the end...what we call a cold ending in the business combined with those final words, pretty much a metaphor for Whitney's life.

RIP Ms. Houston. May you find your "true" friends in heaven.

I'm Not Adopted!

Next week is Valentine's Day, which means it's my sister's birthday, which means she's going to Vegas for the week. So as of Monday, I've agreed to take on babysitting duties for my nephews and niece. I've gotten pretty good at this babysitting thing, but this is a little different. When the clock strikes 5 I won't be getting in my car and going home, but actually being with them all the time, the whole week!

I'm a little nervous having so much responsibility. What if I sleep in and they miss the bus? What if I forget to make their lunches? What if I send Bailey to school in her brother's clothes and vice versa? What if I mix up all their allergies? One's got an allergy to peanuts, one can't eat gluten and the other has asthma. Not to mention I have to cook for someone other than myself. I hope they like sandwiches.

It will be a great chance to spend some time with them. Last fall Clay asked his mom just as I was walking in the room "Is Aunty Tia adopted?". True story. Not sure why he would ask something like that, but I'm not adopted ok?! Jaron, the oldest, said to his mom the other night, "I can't wait for you guys to leave, I need a break from you guys. That and I can't wait to get to know Aunty Tia better." 


I'm sure everything will be fine. As long as they all have 2 hands and 2 legs and a full set of hair still when their mom gets home, we'll deem it a success. They might even have some new words in their vocabulary. The last set of kids I babysat apparently picked up some new ones, but I assure you they weren't bad words. Just interesting ones.


Wish me luck! Or maybe, wish them luck?


Tia  

My Little Black Book

I came across this gem today. It's my dear old little Black Book. Well technically it's purple, but who's keeping count. In it little scribbles inside the opening covers of dates, appointment times and phone numbers. Some with names, others without. Inside the actual alphabetical address tabs, non existent addresses, numbers and people who's names I had totally forgotten. My favourite ever doctor in Moose Jaw is under the "A"s. She's apparently in Calgary now. The CIBC toll free number I could call for information on my student loans, well paid off by now. My 100 year old landlord from my apartment on Mayor McGrath in Lethbridge. Under the "W" the number and box number of my grandma Walker who's no longer with us. Not to mention the numerous other people I've come across since my 20's when the last entry was likely made in this book. 

Talk about things that are a lost art form. How many of you actually have a little address book anymore and actually use it? Nowadays with smart phones and computers, everything can go into a contact tab and never have to be written down. Further to that, how many people actually write letters that they address and mail to anyone anymore either? 

I'm debating whether to keep this little book of memories for sentimental reasons, or chuck it because it's obviously useless. The one thing I can tell you for sure, there's no one under the "X" or "Z" tabs. Surprised?