othersomethings.com

If I didn’t know that cats loudly scream in exactly the same fashion as what I’d imagine a woman being beaten with a hot branding iron sounds like…I would be calling 911 every stinking night to report domestic disturbances.

This neighborhood has a cat problem.

Nice for when Ella has a random sighting and yells out “cat!”

Not so nice when 11pm rolls around and I have to remind myself that we have nice neighbors, and too many cats.

Last year sometime, I was at the walmart in Ft. Walton. It started to rain pretty hard, and I, of course, am not one to go around owning an umbrella. I had a baby in one arm and groceries In the other and I’m sure I was a pathetic sight staring at the parking lot through sheets of rain.

The ever present elderly person at the door handed me a black umbrella and said “just return it next time you’re here.”

I’m sure they lose more umbrellas that way…

Needless to say, I never returned it. Always meant to, but just…didn’t. I even used it a time or two. It’s a reassuring feeling knowing you have an umbrella in the car.

At some point along the way, Shannon bought a ginormous “golf” umbrella. So I now have that in the car as well. Two umbrellas! How unnecessary. Anyway.

Today, the rain is coming down once again in sheets. (a term that is increasingly odd to me, I’ll have to look it up.) and as I drove down the road, I noticed a small family (in number, not in stature…they were of average build) standing at a bus stop. Brevard isn’t exactly on a tight bus schedule, I knew they’d be waiting awhile, and as I passed, the wife who was holding the little boys hand, leaned her head on her husbands shoulder as if she was saying “Worst. Day. Ever.”

And I glanced down at the floorboard…the black umbrella glared at me.

I kept driving. For about 2 more blocks. Then I did that thing I always do when I know my conscience is kicking and screaming, I sighed. And I did a U-turn, and drove back to that bus stop. I hopped out and asked them if they’d like an umbrella. The guy looked at me like “are you serious?” I said “I have two” and he said wow, yes, thank you. Maybe even said “thank God” but I was already running back to my car.

And he held it for his wife and son, and I drove off.

So, sorry walmart, I didn’t give the black umbrella back like I promised. I guess that’s stealing. But I did eventually give it to someone who needed it, so…are we cool?

I don’t often have “blonde moments” but when I do they are pretty good.

You know the joke about the blonde who tells her doctor “it hurts here, and here, and here…” and he says “you’re finger is broken”?

I was trying on shoes last night. 8 pairs and they ALL hurt. They hurt so bad. Why does this store not have a single shoe that fits me?

Then I looked at my foot. I had a blood blister on my pinkie toe, which is where all the shoes were “not fitting me.”

It took 8 pairs.

In other news, Ella is saying more words. And she can put the letters in her alphabet puzzle in the proper spaces…I’m not raising a “special” child after all!!!!

*sigh of relief*

This is about a group of things I’ve noticed. Specifically, birds, in various forms and functions.

I noticed something about the Emerald Coast and decided before I moved I WOULD record the aberrations.

Case #1.

The bird mailbox. Friends of the Martin’s will recognize this, as it was the “landmark” for finding their house in Shalimar. Who wakes up one morning and thinks “I need a new mailbox. Perhaps a metal bird in purples and pinks?”

I don’t think I want to have lunch with that person.

Case #2.

This sucker caught my eye one day while driving HWY 20 home from Freeport. I usually drive that way in the dark, so it’s no wonder it escaped my attention until just several short months before we moved. But once it did…oh my.

First, this thing is HUGE. Those are large palm whatevers in front of it. It’s at least 9, perhaps 10 or even 11 feet tall. And it has girth too. The way it is situated behind the bushes quite literally makes it look like it’s sitting in a giant nest. Clever of the owner, no? The symbolism gets better, because BESIDE this monster, is…get this…

It does INDEED have a baby!!!!!!!

I know, right?

The thought process behind this display is just….wow. I don’t even know. Granted, I know some people wind up with weird things in their yard through no fault of their own *cough GIANT lighthouse cough* but still. This is proudly on display next to a busy highway. It was intentional, and thought out. And you can tell they really, really like it.

More recently I had a day of bird watching. I will illustrate with carefully placed and artfully crafted arrows.

We had a stormy day last week, and while driving home along the river I noted seagulls were taking shelter on the docks. It wasn’t that it was unusual to see some birds on a dock. But that there were millions (my arrows don’t do justice) and they were on EVERY dock for the stretch of a mile was, in fact unusual to me.

Along the same road, on the same day, I stopped for this little gathering several times in the stretch of 20 feet…they couldn’t make up their minds which side of the road was better.

dumb birds.

And to top the week off, tuesday I met “The Flying Penguin.”

Meet Sister Mary.

I can’t make this stuff up. She’s the real deal…full on habit, rosary and crucifix, wimple and all.

She stayed with us for three days, en route  to Haiti. We got to know each other fairly well. She doesn’t like to be called “The Flying Penguin” but accepts the term as an endearment from a select one or two. So we settled on “Sister Mary” and all was well. Of the people I’ve met in the last 5 years, she’s going on the “most interesting” top 10. She’s lived everywhere, gone everywhere, speaks several languages, knows her church history down to the exact dates by heart, thinks the current papal system and pope is a joke, 9/11 was a conspiracy, was friends with Dr. Atkins since the 70′s, loves onion bagels and was born and raised in New York city.

Did I mention she has the gift of gab? And is hard of hearing. Go figure. She’s in Haiti right now, finally found a flight for her. From there she’s going to Argentina or something. She’s a flyer.

Godspeed, sister.

In an effort to take something off Cherie’s plate, I offered to pick up some water purifiers (it’s what her dad’s ministry does) that are going on a plane tonight.

I had her keys, and as I turned the key to the building, I remembered seeing an alarm keypad just inside that door the day before and realized I didn’t know the alarm code.

By the time I called her and got the code and entered it properly, the alarm had already gone off and I had a minute to get to a phone. I missed the phone call, and went downstairs to start loading the cases, I saw the policeman at the door shining his light in. I opened it, invited him in and he waited while I called the alarm company to give them the code.

To be fair, if I weren’t dressed in my church clothes and wasn’t wearing baby hair clips and tan leather dress shoes, it REALLY looked like I was doing something criminal. I was loading 6 large black cases and a red drawstring canvas bag out of a dark wearhouse onto a cart and loading it into a waiting van.

He was satisfied and went back out, I thought he left. But when I backed out the side door with the full cart, I saw the two police cars still there and the officer yelled out “what are you stealing?”

I said “water purifiers for Haiti…”

And the two officers joked about how bad it’d be for them if I really was stealing.

Then one of them grabbed the two cases that were falling off the cart and they both helped me load them into the van. The one said “I’d be in so much trouble if you really are stealing these.” and I laughed, and said “yeah, especially since these are $2000 apiece. People keep calling wanting us to donate them, and boy are they dissappinted.”

He loaded the last one, and I said “thanks so much!”

He said “have a good evening.”

He’s either a terrible cop, or I have a promising career in a life of crime.

I’ve always been a sufferer of allergies.

This is never more apparent than when visiting my family – whether we go to them or they come visit us, 2-3 days into it I am in misery. Despite claritin, benedryl, etc. My nose and eyes and head in general become their own entity and make a pact to produce as much liquid as possible.

So I am either literally allergic to my family, or I have a bizarre psychosis associated with visiting family.

Either way, it’s day 3 and I’m so over it.

This is a two parter. The first part, I will give you a little history. The second part, I will tie it in with the events of today.

Part 1.

Several years ago, (ok…more like 8-9 years ago) my sister Harmony took part in a little impromptu Q&A on stage at church. Think “Bill Cosby and kids say the you get the picture.” I’m going to guess she was 5. When asked to spell Jesus, she (ironically) blurted out “J-E-L-L-O!!!” And in the next round, was asked to tell a story. Her version of “The Three Bears” went like this:

“Momma bear was outside in the garden, and baby bear came out and asked her ‘what are you doing?’ and mama bear said ‘something else’ and baby bear was like ‘ok’….” story continues in a similar nonsensical fashion.

The fact that Harmony thought “Something Else” was an acceptable answer to the question “what are you doing” was beyond hysterical to me. It made me ponder the phrase at great length.

Shortly thereafter, I received as a gift my first and only pet. A frog. I named him “Something Else.” Something Else had a full life that ended abruptly after a freak “broken arm” incident that may or may not have been my fault and which no vet or pet shop seemed interested in helping with.

In the following years, I used the “Something Else” name as a screenname online. Turned out there weren’t too many online sites where that “name” wasn’t already used, so I morphed it into “othersomethings” and thus…we arrive where we are today.

Part 2.

Today, as a surprise, Shannon took me out to lunch to the new(ish) place on the Corner, T.R. Frogs. We’d gotten a pizza from there before, and decided it was OK enough to try their $5 lunch special. Having a toddler, we received the kids menu with crayons for coloring and what not.

Towards the end of coloring in the frog on the front, I flipped the menu over to see that the back had a list of “Frog Facts.” I was curious. (You’re thinking…”I see what you did there. you were coloring instead of Ella. nice.” I’m thinking back “heck yes.”)

Reading down the facts, I got to this one. I’ve highlighted it in red, you can’t miss it.

WOW.

Just…WOW WOW WOW. How close CAN you be to Cuba without actually BEING in Cuba? Are we talking the line between international waters? Are we talking floating on the tide and just BARELY not touching the sand? Are we talking…HOVERING?!

I need to meet this frog. And is it literally THE smallest frog? Like the 1 individual smallest ever measured? Or is it the entire species of smallest frogs? And if they’re the smallest, how small are they? AND WHERE THE HECK ARE THEY ON THE COAST OF CUBA?!? This would have been on national geographic by now FOR SURE.

This gets better. I continue reading the “fact sheet” and notice that one fact states that the largest frog in the world can be up to 10 pounds. Then the very last fact, on the bottom of the page, says the largest frog in North America can be up 12 pounds. Hmmmmm…

So I made the necessary notes and dropped it off with the blond hostess at the front desk. As I pointed out the whole “distance from Cuba” problem she started laughing. So I hope things get righted. And I hope the print run on those kids menus wasn’t too extravagant.

And so, I have finally talked about frogs on my blog that was in a round-about way named after a beloved frog.

The End.

I play a game on my phone here. The game itself is unimportant, but what is important is that while it loads, it displays a little box with a “fun fact” for your viewing pleasure.

Sometimes while waiting for the game to load, I actually read the fun fact, and consequently…I have to stop and think about it. First, I doubt the veracity of some of their facts. But second, and I think MORE importantly, I have to question how fun some of these facts really are. Allow me to give some REAL actual from the game examples.

• “Fun fact: exocannibals eat only their enemies. Indocannibals eat only their friends.”

• “Fun fact: 2500 newborn babies will be dropped in the next month.”

• “Fun fact: 2 out of 3 adults in the United States have hemorrhoids.”

OK, I don’t know about you but I like to think I have a decent sense of humor, and a grasp of what the word “fun” means. And I don’t think any of the above ACTUAL examples fit the “fun fact” category.

Let’s forget whether the information is factual or not. WHO IS EATING THEIR FRIENDS!?!?!?! Enemies, ok…whatever. You’re a cannibal and I’m not going to argue with your logic. But eating your friends?!? Man. That’s harsh.

the second one, people are dropping babies, I get it. But I’ve never seen someone drop a baby and felt any sense of enjoyment. I do not consider that a fun fact. An unfortunate and sad one, perhaps. Fun, no.

The hemorrhoids one, I’m not even going there. Draw your own conclusions.

Perhaps I should write the company and let them know they have a looming problem.  Either remove the clearly “not fun facts” from the rotation, or remove the word “fun” because SOMEONE IS GOING TO GET HURT. I should word it like that. Makes it sound threatening, right? Yeah. I’ll threaten them with bodily harm.

How’s that “fun” fact for you?

First impressions of people are almost always wrong.

Granted, some folks claim (and rightly so) to have good instincts about others, especially upon first meetings, but that could be chalked up to a number of things that don’t necessarily mean you’re first impression was correct.

That isn’t really my point though. I was thinking about how informative it would be if we knew what others first impressions of us were.

If, when I met someone, instead of them saying “Hi, my name is…nice to meet you” they said “Hi. You look like _______ type of person.” or “Hello, are you feeling very _______ right now?” based on their initial impression of me.

Or even 5 minutes after meeting someone new, and talking to them about normal chit-chatty stuff, what would they say about you that they’d learned in that 5 minutes?

I think we would learn A LOT about ourselves if we knew that information.

None of us are the sum of what we present in meeting someone for the first time. We’re on good behavior (usually) with polite greetings and nothing terribly deep shared. But the shallow surface things we share are still a part of us, and are a part of what that person sees upon meeting us. Sometimes it’s a “Nice day, isn’t it?” which tells you nothing about the person other than that they are enjoying the day, and are in an optimistic mood. Sometimes upon greeting, a joke is shared, which tells you that person appreciates a light-hearted encounter and also a little about either their interests or their particular brand of humor.  Sometimes they respond to a “how’s your day?” with “not to bad.” or “so-so.” which I find myself saying often enough, and it makes me wonder 1. am I just saying that cause I don’t want to commit to a good or bad day? and 2. does that person now think I’m a debbie downer?

I can think of a specific instance of this, a guy at the grocery store checkout always has this conversation with me:

“How was your weekend?”

“Not to bad.”

followed with either an “Oh?” (waiting for me to say “well, my daughter was sick” or “yeah, just doing chores, etc.”) OR he asks…”Do anything fun?”

And to the fun question, I almost always reply “not really.” without thinking about it, because who has time to inventory their weekend while typing in your debit PIN?

Except last time he asked me this, I actually paused and thought. Yes, I did do something fun. I had some REALLY GOOD PIZZA. So I told him that, and it turned into a conversation that lasted several minutes.

Because I actually thought about it that time. And it’s completely possible that he remembered me every time he asked me about my weekend before (although I doubt it), but now…he knows me because of the pizza conversation, and voila. I left a good “first” impression.

I really wish I could say I’ve left good first impressions with most people I meet daily. But I know that’s not true. And I wish I could hear what those actual first impressions are, because there is nothing like seeing yourself in a mirror for correcting yourself.

I have more thoughts on this, but it gets tangent-y so I guess I’ll end my thought here.

Do you remember your first impressions of me? (blood relations excepted.)  For educational purposes, I’d be interested in hearing them. And if I can recall my first meeting of you, I’d be happy to share what I thought of you.

Did you miss me? Yeah, me neither.

I spent yesterday sniffing my runny nose, pondering my current existence, and trying to convince Shannon that I’m not depressed. I don’t know if it’s the effects of dayquil, the more thoughtful than usual state, or what, but he seemed sure I was about to lose it and run screaming down the street with a butcher knife yelling “I give up!!!!”

I’m imagining that’s the scenario playing in his head.

Perhaps it’s the fact that I told him I was feeling lonely with my sister going home. Or perhaps it’s the change in weather. Or maybe he just got worried cause I told him about a weird dream I had and then threw in “last time I had a dream like that, I was pregnant!” shouldn’t have added the last bit, I guess. He’s got enough to worry about.

Maybe it’s the change in weather…this is his favorite time of year, literally. It’s like birthday and christmas and his ship coming in all at once when the weather turns cool. (not cold, mind you. “cool.”) While I, on the other hand, have the freezing hands and the chapping lips and the inability to keep socks on my kid’s feet short of duct tape. Yesterday she played the game “put socks on my hands!” and we all had a laugh the first 10 times. I don’t want to duct tape socks to her hands too…I’ll use up a whole roll in a week.

Maybe it’s money worries…this time of year seems to be a season of uncertainty for us, on an annual basis. So odd. I don’t know why I let myself worry, either, because I’ve never had an actual reason to. But I can see how financial stress is a plausible scenario for depression.

But I’m not worried. I’m not depressed either, darn it. What will it take to prove it? Do I have to do a dance? Wear a tutu? Sing something from west side story? Cause I’ll do it! (No I won’t.)

Whatever it takes.

Or you can just take my word for it.