Friday, January 29, 2010

Why have you forsaken me?

Keurig, look, I'm trying to be nice.

I'm trying not to pick a fight.

But it's seven a.m.

I want coffee.

No I need coffee.

And you're totally holding out on me. It's too early and I'm too crabby to cajole and coerce so, really...what's your problem????

Seriously, is all the attitude necessary?

I take care of you. I follow your instructions as best as I know how. I do what I'm told, when I'm told. I give you love and respect and hey, I even talk you up to my friends. Last week I was singing your praises to a total stranger in line at the grocery store.

I don't know what else to do to prove I love and need you. When did we lose that specialness? That certain something we shared? The quiet mornings when I curled my hands around you and snuggled close, you warming me from the inside out. Why has our relationship has become so one way?

I give and I give and I give. And what do I get back?

I mean sure, you act like you're going to give back. I'm convinced of it as I hear the brewing noises, those sweet little sounds you make that tell me you love me too. And then... Dribbles. A splash. Brown mud in the bottom of my cup.

What's up with that?

I'm not gonna lie. There's only so much I can take. I'm only human Keurig. And I have needs. You can shut me off for only so long before I can't bear it anymore.

I know where I can get coffee and I'm not afraid to go there. Dunkins, unlike you, is always there for me. Twenty four seven.

Tell you what, why don't you stick that in your pot and boil it for a while then we'll see who's left with an empty cup.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Nizmo the Wonder Fish


I bought Moose a fish after a particularly rough weekend, hoping to cheer him up.

Cute fish.

Within a few days Nizmo was lifeless. I checked on him frequently.

Tuesday. Nope. No movement.

Wednesday. I tap the glass. Tap, tap, tap. Nothing.

Thursday. Hmm. Why isn't this dead fish floating to the top? Maybe beta fish don't do that?

Friday. Well, at some point dead fish start to smell. I should probably flush dead fish.

Saturday. Ok, that fish is dead.

Now what? Do I mention it to Moose or will that make him feel worse? Ugh. Clearly it's time to RIP Nizmo.

Off you go to the great beyond, where all good fishes go. Traveling the way of your ancestors.

Bye bye Nizmo.

Poor dead Nizmo.

With my hand on the flush I bid Nizmo safe travels. Which is when Nizmo came to life and began swimming vigorously.

I looked at Nizmo. He smiled. He gave me a thumbs up. I'm pretty sure he wanted to stay.

I'm almost positive he wanted me to flush him. I can say with a keen degree of certainty that he did not want me on my knees, toilet-side, reaching deep into the bowl to retrieve his sorry old self.

A ladle, a measuring cup and a soaking wet shirt later, Nizmo was back in his bowl.

Stupid fish.

Monday, January 25, 2010

You look just like...

Originally posted 5/13/09... thought I'd repost it as I'm not feeling particularly "Reece-like" today...



Depending on the time in my life, I've been told I look like various people, and thankfully I've always found myself flattered... but lately, the celebrities are getting younger (and surprisingly shorter). I won't complain, not once have I been compared to say, Billy Bob Thornton or Michael Jackson (although you know who MJ looks just like? Peter Wolf. Check it out, I kid you not)



Anyway, I'm checking into a hotel earlier this week and the woman at the desk looks up at me (I was having a very good hair day, and face day too) and it went like this:



Woman: "You know who you look just like?"

Me, all flattered: "Probably but go ahead"




Woman: "Reece Witherspoon"



Me, cocky after having it heard it all of twice before (not going to lie, one time he was drunk) "Yeah I get that a lot"



Of course she looks down at my driver's license, up at me and, naturally has to ask "But you're not, right?"



Hee, hee... no, I'm not. And not even close if you ask me. However Jake Glynhallal (or however you write his name) did visit my hotel room later that same night, but that's another story...



My husband, gotta love him, insisted on calling me Reece all that day, much to my daughter's mortification, going so far as to put our dinner reservations under Reece. Funny guy.



So which famous person do you resemble? Add your comments below...



PS - someday Reece Witherspoon will be checking into a hotel and the conversation will go something like:



Woman: "You know who you look just like?"



Reece: "I know, Reece Witherspoon, right?"



Woman: "No, actually Sharon K, the author. But you're not, right?"



oh yeaaaahhhhh baby

~Sharon

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Dearest Books,


I never thought we'd have to have this conversation but... well. I can't put it off any longer.

It's not you.

It's me.

You see I've changed. I'm no longer the enchanted, wide-eyed, credit-card wielding ingenue you seduced many years ago with your high profile novels. I am no longer impressed with your end cap displays, your glossy cover art or your famous name. I can't pretend to be interested in you when quite frankly, I'm downright bored by you.

I need more.

I need intrigue and suspense. I yearn for twists and turns, characters I feel so strongly about that I'm sure I know them, a storyline I can't forget.

We had that once, you and I. We shared so much together. You always knew just what I wanted no matter when, no matter where. You were with me at the beach, on late night flights and in countless waiting rooms.
What happened? Where did the mystery go?

Come on, don't you remember when I didn't know what was going to happen next, and how exciting that was for me? For us?

We had something special. And you were so, oh, I don't know. Unpredictable. Exciting. Dare I say stimulating?

Now?

Not so much.

Now I can read you like, well, like a book. I know what's going to happen on page 234 right around page 10. I confess, sometimes I don't even need to read beyond the dust jacket. And there it is in black and white - start, middle and end. Pre. Dict. Able.

Which makes the next 250 pages about as exciting as watching grass grow on a Chia Pet. But I stuck with you anyway. Hoping I might be wrong. Knowing I'm not.

Look, I've tried to make it work. I really have.

I gave you the benefit of the doubt time and time again, hoping that this time I will feel something. Anything. This time will be special. This time there will be magic. With a capital M.

But no.

Instead I'm sticking toothpicks in my eyelids to keep them open.

I know, we have so much history and yeah, we've had our moments together. The Time Travelers Wife... oh, that was a good one. I felt it, you know? And remember The Camel Club? How I stayed up all night because I couldn't wait to find out what happened? And The Help - so delicious I couldn't have written it better myself. What? Yes, you're right, I did love The Shack, you know I did.

It's just... well.

What have you done for me lately?

It wasn't that long ago that you would draw me in, romance me, immerse me so deeply into your world that my surroundings would melt away. I was so into you that nothing else existed when we were together.

Last night instead of reading before bed you know what I did?

I flossed.

Twice.

Look, I know I'm not perfect. I've made some mistakes. You don't need to remind me about the book with the world-jumping, language-challenged bear. In hardcover no less. I said I was sorry about that. And I still am. But it wasn't even my fault. There was that great blurb on the cover. Plus it was on a table at the bookstore. A table, which you know always draws me in. Not. My. Fault.

But even if I am to blame (which I am most certainly not), does that justify your behavior? Does that make what you are doing to me ok?

No, no it does not. And I'm not going to take it anymore.

I am no longer going to be charmed by your blatant lies. Your offers of excitement and fun, romance and suspense. Your fancy end cap displays. From now on I am not going to be swayed by your empty promises.

My friends tried to steer me in the right direction, recommending other books.
Books written with me in mind. But I wanted you. I rebeled.

They pointed me towards websites and reviews that told me how wrong we were for each other. I balked at their efforts.

I defended you, I tried anyway. Whipping open your latest effort I pointed to page 74, only to find I could deny it no longer.

No connection. No spark. Just words. Not even good words. Blah, blah, blaaaah.

And then to add insult to injury, just yesterday even Rachelle Gardner, literary agent extraordinaire, reinforced what I had been hearing all along.

When it comes to books, recommendations are where it's at.

Huh. Who knew?

Here's the thing - I want, I need, to be moved to tears. To laugh out loud. To feel emotions so powerful when we're together it's all I can do to contain them.

On second thought I don't want to contain them. I want to dance and sing and tell strangers how in love I am with my books! I want to sing your praises and buy second and third copies just to share because I love you so much!
That's it. Mediocre books, we are through.

From now on I am not going to cave to your seductions, your wanton come-hither looks from across the bookstore floor. From this day forward I am listening to my friends, and my sister and my husband and the NY Times Bestseller list and strangers on bn.com and and and...

You know what?

I lied.

It's not me.

It's totally you.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Cast your Ballot!


I don't usually climb up on my soapbox like TK does.


But today is your chance to send a message to Washington. Today is your chance to speak out and be heard.


The message might be something like "Yeah, let's work harder and make less so we can give it to those that choose not to. I want to support an administration that majors in Finger Pointing and minors in Not My Fault. And while we're at it, I'm all about supporting a government that makes decisions contrary to what the people want or need!"


In that case, your message will be sent to Washington in the form of a vote for Martha Coakley.


But if your message sounds more like "Please don't make decisions that I am in not in support of. I work hard for my money. And pay my taxes. But I'd like to keep some of it. When I came to the town hall meetings and voiced my opinion, I was not placed there by a right-wing extremist. I came because I cared and would've appreciated if you listened. I'm all for supporting those that can't support themselves. But I am not interested in supporting those that can but won't. I'm not asking for much - I'd just like to live in a free country, a democratic society. Sure, socialism might work for some people but it really doesn't work for me."


In that case you should tell Washington you're serious, you're paying attention and you've got your eye on those in power. In that case, vote for Scott Brown.


Of course there's another message you could send.


If your message sounds more like "I prefer not to make decisions, for myself or anyone else. I like to complain a lot but I'm not so inclined to do anything about it. I'm looking forward to the end of this election nonsense so I can tell people what I would have done differently, had I chosen to do anything. Also so they can stop election coverage on the local channels and I can get back to watching uninterrupted prime time re-runs."


If that's your message to Washington, just keep on doing what you're doing.


So what message will you send today?

Friday, January 15, 2010

Twice as Nice???

Never in my life have I attended the same concert or seen the same performer two nights in a row. Or two nights in the same month.

Come to think of it I probably have not seen the same act twice in the same year either.

Until now.

Naturally you're wondering which performer I hold in such high esteem that I might invest not only my hard-earned money but also my precious time that is in such short supply these days. Of course you are.
I would wonder the same thing if I were you.

And if I were you and I (pretending to be you) knew me fairly well, I would guess Big Head Todd and the Monsters. I do so love Big Head Todd.

I love his Monsters, too. So that would be a great guess.

To which I would say "Ennhhh! Wrong answer!" (on a side note I would totally see him twice in a row however the Big Head doesn't actually do two concerts in a row. He's kind of a one night stand kind of guy I guess.)

If I were you and I (still pretending to be you) knew me marginally at best, I would guess U2. Because who doesn't love to see U2 live?

Wrong again. You're not doing very well today, are you?

John Mayer? Sting maybe? BB King perhaps?

I'd like to say yes but... no, nope and nosirreebob.

Those of you that really, really, really know me already know the answer.

Yeah.

Him.

Nick.

Jonas.

There, I said it.

And you know what? It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would.

Know what else? The kid is good. Really good. Sorta great even.

Nick Jonas performed with his new band The Administration and despite the screaming, crying, does-your-mamma-know-you're-wearing-that teenagers, I actually enjoyed the show. Both nights. (As opposed to the Miley Cyrus concert I suffered through last year. Suh-huh-huh-huh-ferred).

My love for Ziggy knows no bounds and apparently neither does my pocketbook...

Highlights of the night included the opening act, the very talented, incredibly gracious Diane Birch. Diane, a young bluesy beauty won over Ziggy and her friend, though I wonder if her music wasn't just a bit mature for the young audience.

The screamsters seemed to have hard time focusing on her performance while waiting for young master Nick to appear judging from all the texting going on...

The lovely young singer dedicated time after her perfomance to sign autographs and patiently posed for pictures, quite a rarity these days. Ms. Birch - you are certainly a class act.

And then there he was. OMG! OMG! OMG!!!

Nick Jonas is an incredibly talented young man, you just can't deny it (Not even you MB). I just don't think his audience "gets it". What they get is him. Or perhaps I should say what they want to get is him.

However had he removed his name from the band and the tour and released a cd as just "The Administration" I can almost guarantee the audience would have doubled in age automatically.

- I should mention here that the group backing him up consisted of incredibly talented musicians, most of which had previously backed Prince. My generation. When music was way, way cooler. Need I say more?

However surrounded by the screamsters who went limp as Nick Jonas drank water (OMG!!! I drink water too!!!!) and cheered wildly when he talked about being diagnosed with diabetes (what is wrong with you girls??? seriously) it was a bit challenging to focus on the music and really appreciate what we were there to hear.

The fact that he is a talented musician is utterly lost on them. Had he sung satanic verse in pig latin backwards I suspect the teens would have responded in much the same way.

Ziggy? No screaming, no blatant "I love you Nick!" shouted out as if he might notice and reply. Just a smile and a little bopping to the music and maybe some singing along. At a reasonable level. Because she's different.

Sure, she adores the boy but come on - with her eclectic taste in music I'm sure she appreciates his musical talent. It's all about the style. She admires his ability to play multiple instruments. The range of his voice. In fact, I'm not even sure she's noticed what a cutie he is.
Riiiiighhhhttt.

Note to Nick - Use your powers wisely young man.

Second Note to Nick - Don't hang out too much with those band members. You're not of age. Besides, partying is so overrated.

Final Note to Nick - Yes, you did miss out on meeting my beautiful, brilliant and fantastic daughter but you seem like a nice Christian boy. Come for dinner. Bring your parents. I'll make chicken.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Man Texting 101

*** Don't forget - bone marrow drive this week!

A friend recently asked "Do men text smiley faces to each other?"

Hmmm... do they? I knew what I thought but then again, I'm not a guy. So I called Moose.

"Hey when you're texting a friend and he tells you good news..."

"No we do not text smiley faces to each other."

"I didn't finish."

"I knew what you were going to say. Nor do I use exclamation points. Ever."

"Because?"

"Because that's a chick thing. Guys just don't."

"Ok so say you're texting a friend and you say something and he replies with a smiley face. What do you do?"

"I hope he made a mistake."

"Huh. Well what if, just go with me here, what if you sent him one -"

"I wouldn't."

"I know. But let's just say you did."

"Ok say I did. But I wouldn't. So don't say I did to any of your friends or anything."

"Ok."

"And don't post on your blog that I did either."

"Alright look, let's say it wasn't you. Let's say Superstar texted Man-Ho and Man-Ho replied with a smiley face. With me so far?"

"Is this going to take long?"

"Superstar replies to Man-Ho's smiley face with one of those faces where you stick your tongue out, you know, when you use the letter P for the mouth? Do guys do that?"

"Never."

"So what if he did? What if Man-Ho replied back to a smiley face with a stick out your tongue face?"

"Then he's gay."

"What if he's not gay, which we both know Man-Ho is not."

"Then I'd ask him why he had been pretending he wasn't gay all this time when he clearly is."

"Well thank you once again for your insight."

"No problem mom. And if you mention this on your blog don't even think about saying it was me that sent the smiley faces. Guys just don't do that."

"Hey one more quick question - what if you were texting a girl? Would you send one then?"

"Bye mom."

"No wait! What if the person who received the tongue sticking out replies with a wink? And if it's two guys? Or a guy and a girl? Then what?"

"Love you. Bye mom."

Hmmm...

Do men send smileys to women?

If you're dating and newly in love, I think yes, probably. And it's cute but not annoying. Yet.

If you're just friends and the guy is straight, then no.

If you're married, well... not likely. But if a husband does send a smiley what does that mean? After all, we're pretty sure at this point he's not gay, right?

I say one of three things:

1) He's not currently mad at you. Which is good.
2) He just bought tickets to the Superbowl and is softening you up before telling you. Not so good (unless you have a pair of boots you've been eyeing and are willing to negotiate)
3) He's in the dog house and desperately wants out. Could be good or not so good, depending on how you look at it.

If it's Number 1, maybe you should reply back with a wink. I would.
Number 2, well I don't know how you would reply but me? I would send a >:-(.

And Number 3? Well that might not even get a reply, depending on what he's in the dog house for. Or in the time honored tradition of female communication he'd get a one word reply. "Fine." But again, that's just me.

As for guy to guy smiley faced texting... I have to agree with Moose.

Guys just don't do that.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Imagine this...

Imagine you are on your way to work. You stop for coffee and a muffin at Dunkins.

A
s you walk through the parking lot you see a box. And it's on fire.

Inside is a little kitten, it's face peeking out out, it's big round eyes meeting yours. To save her you just need to reach in beyond the flames and pull her out.

Would you do it?

What if it meant scorching your fingertips? Or singeing your eyebrows?

Would you still do it?

What if it meant Dunkins would run out of muffins before you made it to the counter? What if it meant you'd be late for work?

Would you still do it?

What if you knew the kitten was going to scratch you as you pulled it from the flames?

Would you still do it? Would you save that kitten's life?

Now imagine it's not a kitten in the burning box.


It's a man.


A grown man with three beautiful daughters. A man with a loving wife.


Would you save him?

What if the man wasn't in a box, but in a hospital bed. What if instead of battling the intensity of a fire he was battling a deadly disease. What if instead of a hand to pull him from the flames he needed bone marrow.

Would you still do it?

What if to save his life all you had to do was have the inside of your cheek swabbed to see if you are a match? What if that made you late for work? Or made you miss another re-run of Lost? Or made you late for dinner?

Would you still do it?

Imagine now that you are a match for this man. And your marrow would mean that his next Christmas would be spent at home instead of in a hospital bed. It would mean that he could live his life as it was meant to be.

Would you still do it now?

What if instead of the scratch of a kitten's claw you had to feel the prick of a needle? A needle that would remove stem cells from your blood, stem cells that could save this man's life. Or someone else's. What if donating bone marrow was as easy as donating blood and not as painful as you thought it would be?

The question is no longer would you still do it.

The question is - How could you not?

Dean Gordon is fighting leukemia.

A simple act of kindness on your part could change his life.

It could save his life.

Please become a registered bone marrow donor. It's quick. It's easy.

Join me at the Lowell Memorial Hospital Bone Marrow Drive for Dean this week.

Thursday, January 14th, 11 a.m. - 5 p.m. / Lowell General Hospital Drum Hill Campus / 20 Research Place, Chelmsford

Friday, January 15th and Saturday, January 16th, 11 a.m. - 5 p.m. / Lowell General Hospital / 275 Varnum Ave., Lowell, MA

For complete details, including times and ways you can help, please email Michele Gordon.

Not local? Anyone, anywhere age 18 - 55 can register to be a donor.

Find out how on the National Marrow Donor site

Seriously.. how could you not?




Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Things I Wish I Could Say

As my days fill up with things I can't even begin to list, I decided that instead of writing a witty (aren't they all?) commentary for today I'd re-post a witty commentary from last summer...

Friday, July 24, 2009

Things I Wish I Could Say

Inspired by fellow blogger
Sarah J Henry, who reposted a lovely blog by Steph Bowe, I have created my own list of things I've wanted to say to people I know or have known.

Some things I don't say because I will embarass myself.

Some I don't say so I won't embarass other people.

Mostly it's a little bit of both.

Please don't ask me if I am talking to you. If you think I am, then I probably am.

If just once every so often you thought of me, that would be very nice.

I really adore you but sometimes you smell.

I pray for you.

I wish you took better care of yourself.

I have tried really hard to forgive you but am not there yet.

The eighties are over. I am speaking to you and your hair.

I'm really disappointed that after all I did for you that you can't be happy for me.

Not even a little bit.

I wish I could stare at you for hours at a time but I know that would creep you out so I don't.

You used to finish your sentences, now you get lost mid-thought. What happened?

I'm really sorry for the way things ended between us.

Children do not raise themselves. Yes, as a matter of fact, it is your job.

Please stop drinking so much. It makes you a very dull, boring person that repeats every dull, boring thing at least twice. Loudly.

Remember when I said it wasn't you, it was me? I lied, it really was you.

We're really not as close as I'd like us to be.

I miss you so much it hurts.

Being mean doesn't make you more interesting. It just makes you mean.

Please drink more often. You are a very dull, boring person that needs a little something to loosen you up every now and then.

Your children are so very lucky to have you as a parent and are completely clueless about it. They'll figure it out soon enough. I hope.

As much as I like you, please stop flirting with my husband. I know you think it's funny and sometimes it is but mostly it's not.

When you lost your confidence in yourself you really changed. Please change back.

I hope someday you realize how much damage you've done and that when you do, it's not too late to repair it.

When I needed you, you weren't there.

Loosen up, baby! It's all good!

As it turns out you were wrong, you really didn't know better than me.

Yes, your children are great but do you think you can keep an eye on them once in a while?

If I tell you a secret it's between you and me until I decide to share it with others. Or not.

You have always been there when I need you and even sometimes when I didn't. Thank you.

I wish you could've been here to see my children grow up. I know they would've loved you like I did.

If you weren't so bitter and angry your life could be so much better.

I'd like to be friends with you but making new friends as an adult is so hard.

You know what would be awesome? If you showed up somewhere around the time you said you would.

Please stop being so negative. It's your child for Pete's sake, be proud of what they have done and stop focusing on how it doesn't fit into your perfect plan.

Sometimes when I am shopping for clothes, I think about whether or not it's something you would wear because I really like your style.

You missed out on a lifetime of a good thing and that's a shame.

Know what? God does exist and I think no matter what you say, you really do know that.

You are so young and so smart and could do so much better if you just tried.

Don't keep telling people we are friends. We're not. When you decide to return a call, ask me how I am and really care about the answer and stop being a self-centered witch, we'll talk. Maybe.

I bet if you tried very hard you could find something to talk about other than your job.

I know I'm supposed to be superwoman but I'm not. Lower the bar for me, would you?

What are some things you wish you could say?