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To Nag, or Not To Nag?

wtad.com/white pages/6.22.17

Bobbe White

Define nag: noun 1. annoy or irritate (a person) with persistent fault-finding or continuous urging. 2. horse especially : one that is old or in worn-out condition.

Nag comes from Middle English nagge; akin to Dutch negge small horse. First known use: 15th century.

In other words, women have been nagging their husbands to do things around the house since 1417. It’s nothing new. It rarely works. This post is about getting things done without acting like a small worn-out irritating horse.

Jeff made me a beautiful seven-foot trophy case in 1973. It has a little engraved brass plate that reads, “Bobbe Schecter – 1973 – JWW.” I had been at college, while Jeff took a semester off to work and build things. He built the case for my childhood swimming awards. There may have been a few water polo trophies, as well, but not because I was any good. I could out-sprint most girls to the center of the pool to swat the ball back to my teammates. That was about it for me. I was afraid to catch that hard polo ball (jammed fingers) and threw like a weak kitten. I digress.

cabinet

The trophy case lived in my parents’ basement for twenty years. I mentioned it occasionally, “Why can’t it live at our house?” I can’t recall the answer. It then moved to my parents’ next home for twenty years. Are you seeing a pattern here? When they had movers anyway, why didn’t we move it to my house? I guess it was easier not to move it. I asked a few (hundred) more times to move it. In 2013, my parents moved to assisted living. Finally, happily, the case moved to our basement. It was placed on its side. The ceilings weren’t high enough to stand the damn thing upright. There it slumbered like a beached whale for four more years.

Last month, we gathered Korey’s things for her move to D.C. To help Jeff (and me), two guys from work agreed to carry a heavy table upstairs and out to the garage for loading. “While you’re at it, bring that stupid trophy case upstairs too.” Ha!  They did it! “Set it up in the corner.” Up, up, up it went like a flag on Iwo Jima. Our carpeting, it seems, was too deep of a pile. The case was top-heavy and it lurched forward.  Down went Shamu, to the floor, to rest in the middle of the room, as it had downstairs. Terrific. I paid the guys with two six-packs of good beer.

Last weekend, Nick and Jenna came home for Father’s Day and my birthday. Jenna asked, “What are your birthday dreams?” Nick analyzed the trophy case’s tipping point and sent us to Home Depot for shims. And we shimmied that whale right into the corner, where I hope it lives for at least twenty more years.

A Perfectly Normal Evening

Wtad.com/White Pages/5.05.17

Bobbe White

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After work, I walked the dog, mowed the yard and put out the garbage. Friday is a big day in our ‘hood. It is garbage day and it can’t come soon enough. Meet Murphy’s Law of Garbage: the day on which you have the most garbage bags is in opposite correlation to the number of garbage stickers you own. For my non-Quincy IL readers, we have two garbage collection options: (1) buy a garbage container from the city at a one-time fee, until your garbage container gets stolen, or (2) pay 75 cents a sticker for regular bags of garbage (i.e. kitchen size), or two stickers for a larger, yard size bag. Stickers can be purchased at groceries for $7.50/sheet of ten; I usually buy two sheets. That seems like sooooooo many stickers. Until I need one. Or two. Or six, like I did tonight. At 8:15 p.m., when I’d planned on relaxing for the evening, I loaded Lily White, the black Lab, into the car and told her that since she’d been home all day, we’d go get the stickers, some coffee pods for my Keurig, bananas, shower gel, cereal and dog bones.

It was a record time grocery run, seeing as my hands smelled of gasoline, from refilling the mower, and Lily barked the ENTIRE time I shopped, because the checkout guy could hear her. She thinks I’m never coming back, but I always do, because the garbage must go!

After unpacking the groceries, I checked my Fitbit app. Mowing had pushed my total over 15,800 today! After seeing that number, I was really tired and finally sat down with a nice glass of wine as Lily chewed her bone. Then a bell rang in my head: Where’s the coffee? And the stickers? I searched the kitchen, my purse and the empty grocery bags. Hopefully, the coffee’s with the stickers in the car. The good news: I found the stickers. The bad news was really bad: no coffee. That’s what I get for shopping with a mental list. No worries. In the morning, I will simply have to fill a reusable K-cup sized container with regular coffee grounds found in the pantry. It will suffice, until I realize the coffee I have is technically espresso. You can almost feel the buzz. And if THAT’s not a great way to kick off a Friday, there isn’t one.

So much for first-world problems. Happy weekending!