Our Crooked Tree

Is this thing on?

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 07:18:00 +0000

What are you still doing here? I told you I moved! Go there now and update your reader!

On the Move

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 11:30:00 +0000

Hubs and I have been called gypsies. We have moved about 10 times in 11 years. I hate the idea of packing and getting there, but I love the newness and getting to now the new surroundings. I like change most of the time. I have had the itch to move again lately and I have been thinking about it for a while. I just wasn't looking forward to packing and unpacking and every time I move something gets lost and I just didn't have time to clean up a mess. I actually started packing up a few months ago and changed my mind. I unpacked and stayed put. Moving takes time, effort, and some emotion; none of which I have to spare so I kept putting it off. Everyone told me I would be happier once I did it. You never know how right people are until after the fact. With that said, I finally did it. I have moved on, and after much anxiety, could not be happier. So update your readers folks and look for me here:

http://ourcrookedtree.com

I love unannounced drop bys and will always have a drink ready for you upon arrival. Let me know what you think of my new place!

Y...Y...Y

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 13:42:00 +0000

Since I am the proud mother of two of the cutest and craziest boys ever and the wife to the most handsome and patient man on earth, I often find myself pondering genetics and hormones. No matter how much society wants to wussify boys these days, there is a clear difference between boys and girls and I believe they should be raised differently. Don't get me wrong, I think it is great that Little Man loves High School Musical and Annie, and that The Babe only talks about football, soccer, and baseball. Although they have different likes and dislikes, even at their early ages, they are both all boy all the time.

The personalities of the boys are complete opposites. Little Man, as first born, is much like his mama. Neurotic, animated, cautious, and a just a little goofy. The Babe being the second born is just like hubs. Not only is The Babe almost an identical replica of hubs in physique, he is just as laid back as Brad. If I told Little Man there was no more milk he would throw himself on the floor and wiggle around until I somehow made milk come out of the faucet. If I told The Babe we were out of milk he would shrug his shoulders and say "ok" and walk off to play. Learned behaviors or genetics? A little of both I am sure. Although they have conflicting personalities they have one thing in common; beyond their parents. These two boys will find any reason to touch, knock down, run, collide, jump, climb, wrestle or drag something or someone.

What is it about little boys that makes them so physical? I was at work the other day facilitating a field trip in the museum and I watched the kids closely. What I noticed was that the girls stood calmly and talked with their friends while waiting to board the bus while the boys were screaming, wrestling, kicking, punching, and being obnoxious. I had to tell one pair to get off of each other a number of times.

I had mixed feelings as I experienced this. I was happy to see it was not just my children. I was concerned to realize that it doesn't seem to stop after preschool. I struggled to find some sort of logical explanation for boy behavior. The only thing I came up with was there was a reason they named themale chromosome "Y".

Almost Wordless Wednesday

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 13:09:00 +0000

This is Jeena. Jeena is a HUGE Star Wars fan. Thanks to my friend Jim over at The Busy Dad Blog, I am now Jeena's favorite person. Seems I won a contest over at Jim's blog that made Jeena the proud owner of the ENTIRE Star Wars bobble head collection. May the force be with you Jeena.

On Being Prepared

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 13:00:00 +0000

Hubs is an outdoors man. If it requires tackle, ammunition, a boat, a gun, sun screen, or bug spray, the man is all about it. Living in Florida his favorite past time was of shore fishing. Although I enjoyed this sport as well, I enjoyed what I like to call "Cadillac fishing". This entails someone else bating my hook and telling me when to reel it in. The reeling is the best part.

Now that we are back in Missouri, hubs can get his outdoor on all year long and enjoy a variety of sports. For those that are not up on the latest hunting seasons, I will tell you we are currently in deer season. Deer season lasts a couple of weeks, at which time I loos my husband each morning from about 3-8 am. This is his opportunity to "get green" and go to the solitude of the woods. With his trusty bow and arrow, and whatever else he needs, hubs heads to some land about an hour away from the house. So far this year he has come home with no deer. He has, however passed many on the way home and be welcomed home by them on our front yard. He even has his rack on the back of the truck "in case" he gets one. Looks like odds are better he will hit one on the way home than shoot one with an arrow!

Should She Stay or Should She Go Now

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 17:16:00 +0000

A while back hubs and I decided it was time to add to our family. The boys love their Nana's cat and since we lost our cat a couple of years ago to cancer we thought it was time. We brought Poco home in August and the boys were thrilled to say the least. Little Man calls her baby and cuddles with her while watching movies and The Babe loves to chase her. Poco is the most laid back kitty I have ever seen and she puts up with just about anything the boys can "throw" at her.

In our effort to be good kitty parents, we took Poco to the vet a couple of weeks ago to get her fixed. I know there is a more scientific term for this, but I use the word fixed. After all, something must be wrong with her right? While she was in for the overnight, we thought declawing the front paws wood be beneficial as well. Beneficial for hubs favorite leather recliner that is.

Poco stayed at the vet for observation and came home the next day. We were instructed that we had to switch her conventional litter to this crappy plastic covered stuff that looks like the ends of shoe laces. This of course, was to prevent littler from entering her freshly severed fingers. She communicated her disgust with the new litter by peeing in Little Man's bathroom. Then in our bathroom. Then on the carpet in our master bedroom.

I got over the bathroom incidents; it is tile and it cleaned easily. I am not over the carpet. For those of you that have never smelled cat pee. Be glad. It reeks. The peculiar thing about this fact is that hubs has a nose that seems to be immune to the smell of cat pee. He told me I was crazy and must have skipped my meds. Then I found the spot. Maybe mommy not so crazy (read this in a high pitched foreign tone for effect)?

We swapped her litter back to the old stuff when instructed it was ok. That seemed to do the trick with the peeing in non designated locales. I thought she was just litter picky. However, today she pooped on the tile floor in the living room! She is so lucky she did not do it on the suede couch!

What would I do if The Babe pooped on the floor while we are potty training? Send him to the pound? I realize the cat is not my child but what example am I setting for the boys if I send her outside or elsewhere? Will they somehow think I won't love them if they have accidents?

Maybe hubs was right. I must have missed my meds.

A 1/3 Life Crisis?

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 12:51:00 +0000

That is the only way I can explain it. I don't know what it is, but lately I have been struggling with my age and what age I look to others. I am considering a new tattoo, plastic surgery and asked my father in law to teach me how to drive his motorcycle. I already have a convertible so that mid life milestone has been reached. I am reconsidering my career choices, and although I am currently finishing my MBA, I am considering continuing school after that. Since selling our business last fall I have been trying to figure out what to do next. I like routine and since my routine has been altered, I have been thrown off kilter a little. I am anxious to get things back to "normal", if I only knew what that was. Has anyone else gone through this and have advice?

The $35.00 toy plane

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 12:39:00 +0000

Sunday I took Little Man to see High School Musical 3. He loves the first two and has been telling me for days that the new HSM and new Madagascar are coming to theaters soon. He had been a very good boy all weekend and I really wanted some one on one time with hom so this was a perfect opportunity. Although Daddy is a little distraught by Little Man's affinity for musicals, I think it is cute when he says turn on the music, I want to dance! I remind Brad that Little Man may be a rock star one day so we need to nurture his interests now.

So he lasted about an hour at the movie when he calmly told me he was done and wanted to play in the theater arcade. I had told him we could play a couple of games after the movie if he was quiet while we were in the theater, so we headed out. We played as many games as we (I) could handle and headed to the prize station with our tickets. To my surprise, we only have enough tickets to get this little plastic airplane with snap on wheels that fell off in the car before we even got home. Were we not good at the games, or do the games not give us enough tickets for our efforts? Maybe the manufacturers need to redefine their market to better determine how many tickets to give the players. Although the tangible payoff was pathetic we had a great time just Mommy and Little Man. It was worth every penny.

Bad Ass Girls and Bad Ass Cars

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 02:34:00 +0000

I have had a thing for cars since I was in middle school. I guess you would say I do not look "the type" but I love me some car muscle. I love the sound of an engine, the lines, the paint and the thrill that you can get from driving and even just looking at some cars. It doesn't have to be a new car mind you; my car will be a historic vehicle in just 2 years. Made from German stock, she causes talk and I like that. The other day as I was walking out of the grocery store I heard one man say to another "pay up". They proceed to tell me one thought a man owned my car and the other disagreed. I made one guy five bucks richer. Enjoy that Starbucks on my buddy!

I am not sure if it just part of my detail oriented nature or my love of cars, but I pride myself on the knowledge I have, as a woman, about vehicles. So imagine my dismay when I hear my husband say something like, "I don't know, I think its a Chevy". What do you mean "you think". There is a clear difference between Chevy, Ford, and Dodge. Imagine my growing angst when I see the vehicle in question and it is an import! Ahh! I have tried to help him but he is a lost cause.

Little Man, on the other hand gives me hope. Walking through the parking lot the other day a car passes us. "Mommy, what kind of car is that?". I explain to Little Man that we just saw a Mitsubishi Eclipse and further note that the convertible version is called a Spyder. He is intrigued. He proceeds to tell me one day he will own a fast red car that will not have a top. My kind of boy when I was a teenager. I am scared, especially if he inherits the love of speed that his Dad had for the cars he could not name.

Dear MODOT

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Mon, 27 Oct 2008 13:50:00 +0000

It has been a while. I am sure you are busy but I hope this note finds you well. I realize it seems that you only hear from me when I want to complain; but frankly that is all I have for you. I will commend you for your effort to improve my drive from KC to STL but since I don't use 70 much anymore I really don't care. See, my issue has a longer history than that of the 70 corridor.

I have not lived in my hometown for almost five years now. I get back as much as I can but have been busy; you know with the boys and all. I was able to make a trip this weekend to see my brother in law that recently moved there. You know him, the guy with the cool downtown bachelor pad overlooking the new P&L area.

I digress. So I just arrive in town and while traveling on 435 realize that Kansas roads have seen better days. Living in JOCO for some time I was always pleased with the roads on that side of the state line. I cross over to Missouri and was pleasantly surprised with what seemed to be a newly paved I-35. Then it happened. I hit my pothole. You know the one. The one that I hit nearly every morning on my way to work downtown for three years. The one on 35 North, North of the SW Blvd exit and Just South of Rainbow. You know, the east side of the east lane. The one that I swore would suck my car into a black hole many a morning. You think I would have learned to avoid it over the years but it just kept getting bigger. I would prepare myself each morning but then get distracted by a crazy driver, or something on the radio, or the phone. Boom. There goes some more tread.

So here is my question. What the hell? Why is this pothole still there? I was not prepared for it this time but could not help but giggle my cynical little laugh when I hit it on Saturday. It was almost like the city was telling me something. Maybe is was saying "some things never change". Maybe it was saying "pay attention woman". Maybe it was saying "MODOT still sucks".

Or maybe it was saying "welcome home", "we missed you".

Either way thanks, but fix that damn thing. There are plenty of other ways to say hello.

Tit for Tat

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Fri, 24 Oct 2008 18:51:00 +0000

Although I am normally a "music in the morning" kind of girl, I found myself listening to one of those syndicated radio shows this morning. Lex and Terry happen to be on Little Man's favorite rock station so it was on when I got in the car to head to work. During my commute this morning, the guys were taking what I call Dr. Phil calls. Callers were telling us about their relationship woes and not only asking advice, but some were asking for the wanna be Oprahs to call their significant other to help the situation.

One guy called in and explained he had to scrap some money together to take his wife to a hotel and dinner for their anniversary. Seems she was upset he did not take her out on the actual date of their anniversary because he had tickets to a playoff game. I realize I may not have all the details here but give me a break. Celebrate on another day woman and let the man go to the game. She even admitted he was not a band wagon fan and attends regular season games often. So this affinity for sports was not new for her; she knew what she was signing on for when she married him. What gives?

I understand that everyone has a routine that works for their family. I am not one to judge, but do have issues with people that "let" and will "not let" their significant others do things. Relationships are a compromise and this woman seems to have forgotten that if she would have just let this one go she could have used it to her advantage. Hmmm. Maybe she did and that is why she has a hotel room and dinner.

Bathroom Banter

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Mon, 20 Oct 2008 19:38:00 +0000

Kids really do say the darndest things; especially at 4am. Little Man is going through what I hope is a phase. He wakes in the wee hours of the morning and calls for one of us. When the first one doesn't answer he starts calling for the other. Hubs is usually the one to go in. Hey, stop calling me names; he and I both know that I have to get up much early than the kids should so there is no point of me going in and falling asleep.

Last night was no different. Little Man called, Hubs answered. Little Man said he had to go to the bathroom. As Little Man is peeing and hubs is holding him up so he doesn't fall asleep in the toilet Little Man says "Daddy, you should go too, you don;t want to have an accident".

Then in true neurotic fashion he points out "we should really clean out that trash can".

He is my boy.

Hell Hath Frozen

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Sat, 18 Oct 2008 01:13:00 +0000

I remember in high school when I freaked out because gas prices went above a dollar! Now I get excited when we make it under $2.50!

Why Even Bother?

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 01:06:00 +0000

*This is not our house. Although I will not reveal our affiliation I will let you know that is one of those in the pcture ☺ We just thought this was funny. Rather than argue about politics, we argue about sports. Rock Chalk baby!

Days That End in Y

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 02:30:00 +0000

It is a good thing we DVR the games!

Country Kids Will Survive

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Wed, 08 Oct 2008 12:00:00 +0000

I admit I had some apprehensions about moving back to Missouri. I had become accustomed to my anonymity from living away from our family. Don't get me wrong, I am not a hermit, I just like my privacy. I am not a fan of everyone knowing my business. Seems an odd admission from a gal with a blog, I know. Now that we have been back a couple of years I have to say there may be something to this whole thing. I once dreaded the idea of an unannounced drop by and now welcome them. I feel so fortunate to have good friends and family close that I know have my back no matter what. I love that my boys get to grow up close in proximity and emotion to their cousins. I love that the landscape of the area offers my boys the opportunity to learn and grow with nature. We spent some time on Uncle Matt's land this weekend. Shooting guns, hiking, and Little Man even got to poop in the woods! It was a learning experience for all! My new shot gun worked well but could use a choke if I am to prove myself to be the Annie Oakley I know I am.

I really should take a list

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 03:03:00 +0000

You know how you go to the store for one thing and you come out with over twenty? You know how you may even go in with a list and you completely deviate from it? Ever since I was pregnant with Little Man some four years ago I have had issues with grocery shopping.

When I was pregnant with Little Man it never failed. I would go to the store with or without a list and I would come home with a bottle of ketchup in the loot. I very rarely need ketchup, but was never able to realize, that if it was not on the list I did not need it. I just felt drawn to the ketchup. Heaven forbid I have a ketchup craving that goes unsatisfied in the wee hours of a pregnant morning!

Now I go shopping and I find myself drawn to the toilet paper and paper towels. Mind you, we do go through both like wildfire in this house, I just feel like a hoarder. We may not even need a paper product but I find myself perusing the aisle like a termite looking for dinner.

I get home and realize I have no room for more paper products. All the bathroom cabinets are full and I have no more room to squeeze another paper towel. Will the madness ever stop?

Something To Think About

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Fri, 03 Oct 2008 01:46:00 +0000

"They" say that as we get older it is important to keep our minds agile. Many retired adults find them selves doing volunteer work and busier than when they were working just to stay busy. Some folks keep their brain on the top of it's game with cross word puzzles or card games. This theory indicate to me that those of us that are young and in the work force would have agile minds, full of thought and new ideas. Why is it then , that since I went back to "work" my mind is absolute mush by the time I get home. Not only can I not think of anything to write about, I can hardly form a clear enough thought to have a conversation with hubs before crashing in bed.

The Cost of a Good Vacation

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Thu, 25 Sep 2008 02:13:00 +0000

We all know that sometimes we have to do things we do not want to do so we can do things we want to do. Take for instance hubs semi-annual boys fishing trip. I have never been one of those wives that insists I get something for "letting" him go on these trips. He deserves a break just as much as anyone. He simply takes it upon him self to do some extra honey-dos before and after he gets back. Seems a small price for him to pay to hang out with the guys and not take a razor or toothbrush.

Well this year he had to pay a little more. Karma is a little more of a bitch than I am. The story goes that Allen picked up Brad from the house on Thursday afternoon while I was at work. The two of them were the first to the cabin and opened the Crown. By 2pm they were feeling pretty good. The others arrived and more of the same ensued until midnight when Allen and Brad decided to start fishing early.

The two decided to borrow a boat that was close by and headed down the river in the 50 degree fog. The fog was so thick, I was told Brad could not see Allen at the front of the boat. Midway through the ride Brad has to pee. What to you do if you are a man in a boat and need to pee? Stand up of course. What do you do if you are a man that has to pee in a boat and have had half a bottle of Crown? Fall out of the boat.

Now you have a cold wet man without provisions because he is in a "borrowed" boat. Back up river the two go. Brad realizes his phone was in his pocket. He begins to mumble obscenities and realizes there are no children around so he yells them instead; hoping his hot air will dry his phone. No luck.

Upon arrival to the cabin the two place the borrowed boat back in it's place unharmed and head inside. Brad is on his way to take a warm shower but decides to place his wet phone in the oven on low to dry it out. Brad is a professional phone dryer as this is not his first rodeo.

Allen decided to fall into bed before Brad exited the shower but stopped in the kitchen on his way to his room due to the strange smell. Allen then asked Brad if he meant to push warm or broil.

Gas to get to the river: 75.00
Bottle of Crown: 30.00
New Sprint Instinct: 30.00 with insurance and extended contract

A story the wife can tell forever: priceless

Sleeping Single In A Double Bed

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Mon, 22 Sep 2008 12:30:00 +0000

Hubs and I have been apart from each other very little in the eleven years we have been together. We met at work and began dating shortly after and then he stole my spare key. Not one that likes to cook, I didn't mind the spare closet taken over when I found out what a great cook he was. We carpooled because we worked together and then we started a business together that allowed us to work from home...you guessed it...together. Some ask us how we do it. I ask how others don't do it. Going back to work outside of the home this month has been very strange. Not only do I miss the boys but I miss my hubs. I miss not talking to him on a regular basis. I miss the mundane little things we would share during the day.

This weekend was hubs semi-annual boys weekend on The White. The trip is taken twice a year (hence the term semi-annual) typically when the clocks change. This year the fall trip occurred a little early but not any less deserved. Although this is called a "fishing" trip, this is a time for hubs and 20 of his closets friends and relatives to drink, smoke, cuss, carry on, play cards, not shave for days, and if they have time they may do some fishing.

This trip just gave me one more thing to miss. Sleeping in the same bed as hubs. IT has already been an adjustment to not seeing him during the day, then I had to miss him at night for three nights! The irony of it is that when he is gone, I actually sleep better. I am the type that can pull back the covers and crawl in bed only to wake up in the exact same position as when I laid down. Makes making the bed in the morning very easy. When hubs is here it is not so simple. The covers are all over the place, he tosses, he turns, he snores, I sweat from the heat that radiates off his body. No wonder I don;t sleep well. I do have to admit I tend to stay up later when he is gone, I guess just procrastinating. Funny thing is I get up much earlier too; maybe in preparation for the boys as life is much easier if I am ready before they wake.

So I am torn, miss him and sleep well or have him and sleep poorly. Sleep is overrated I guess; I can sleep when I die.

The Good Ol Days

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 18:32:00 +0000

Remember the good ol days when the only thing your mom made you wear while riding your bike was shoes? Some of use barely made it out the door with a shirt on and many time I would ride while wearing my swimsuit and tennis shoes. We didn't have to wear helmets; that was for wimps! Hubs and I thought it was funny, that while riding bikes at Nana's last week, the boys did not have to wear shoes but had to wear helmets!

On Being A Role Model

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 14:29:00 +0000

I try to make a conscious effort to think about what I say and do; especially when I am in front of the boys. Little Man is at the age where he repeats everything. He repeats everything. I will say or do something and I will look at Brad and think, there is only one place he learned that...you! As a parent I recognize the boys are my responsibility. What irks me is that other people, adults mind you, do not think about what they say and do in front of others. Take for instance the other day. On my drive home I pass two hospitals. We are very fortunate here to have two excellent places of health care but I am reminded daily why I choose one over the other.

Upon passing my second choice for life saving skills I see a number of men and women in scrubs. These folks are evidently on a break and want to enjoy the weather, even it is raining, while they suck on their cancer sticks. Understand that I don't care if they smoke, just don't run around all high and mighty inside that place that pays your bills telling the common folk to stop smoking because it will kill them, and then go out and smoke. Can we say hypocrite?

You could say I am a little biased about the subject of smoking. My mother smoked for up to 30 years. Although she survived breast cancer nearly 15 years ago she is now on to her sixth month of chemo for lung cancer. I know she quit smoking two years ago but what was the point?

My point is, think about what you are doing and who is watching. If you care. Everyone is a role model, with or without kids. I hate having to explain other people's behavior to my boys. Parenting is hard enough people, ease up on me.

Turn Out The Lights The Party's Over

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 17:23:00 +0000

I knew it would happen eventually but I did not realize how soon.Looking back I realize I did not know just how spoiled I was.Working from home for nearly ten years, a girl gets accustomed to a certain “lifestyle”.You know, roll out of bed when the kids come in begging for milk, take the ten step commute to the office and work in my flip flops.I took breaks at the park with the kids and had “staff” meetings at the pool.My staff being the almost two year old intern and 3 year old tenure professor.

Life at the Crooked Tree has changed.I am still Chief Officer Mom but now have other obligations; that actually pay.Hubs and I thought long and hard about whether or not I should go back to the real world. After selling our business last fall I was privileged to take some time and hang out with the boys. During that time I remember thinking how hard I had it.I would be so spent at the end of the week it was all I could do to undress myself for bed.Keeping two small, energetic boys entertained is hard work.Not to mention the other responsibilities that go along with being a stay at home mom.Hubs and I decided the boys needed more structure and stimulation that I was not providing, and I really wanted something for “myself”. So last week I started working for a great non-profit in town as their web and data specialist.I absolutely love the organization, the people, and my job!

I have not given up any of my previous responsibilities; I have merely added more.I now fight traffic that I never knew existed in this town which makes my 8-5 day really 7-6. By the time I get home, it is time to feed, bath and put the boys to bed. I end up falling asleep in Little Man’s bed before he does. I am awakened to him tapping my forehead asking me to tell him a story or talk about his favorite Higgly Town heroes.

This change in lifestyle has provided me a new perspective on things.I once felt that stay at home moms were completed underrated; and I still do. The work of a stay at home mom is never done and she gets little if any recognition.I used to think that being a working gal would be a piece of cake; you get a break every day!You get recognition for your efforts!While that may be true, for me, being a working gal is even harder than a stay at home mom.My work is still never done and not only do I get less time with my family, but much less time for myself.I am so fortunate that to have experienced both sides of motherhood.My hat goes off to all the moms out there, whether at home or the office.I hope the key for all of us will be a routine.The newness will wear off and we will not be so out of sorts.It does not help that Little Man, The Babe, and I are sick.The boys started a new school and brought home some new germs and so did I!The new school had a water pipe break this week so the boys have been home with hubs which is unusual for all of us.How do you working folk do it?How do you find time for you and your family without feeling like someone I getting neglected?

Word Snob

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 01:16:00 +0000

Maybe it is due to my love affair with words. Maybe it is due to my father hammering in my head the fact that we do not end sentences with prepositions. Maybe it is because I am just a snob.

I had the good fortune to go shopping by myself today. While I was perusing the racks of clothes I overheard a woman on her cell phone. "Where you at?" she asked the person on the other end. "Where you shopping at?" she asked again. Don't get me wrong, I am guilty of many language faux-pas. I do make a conscious effort, however, to eliminate the word "at" from my vocabulary. It is just an unnecessary word. Why could this woman not ask "Where are you shopping"? Asking it in this method accomplishes a couple of things. (1) It does not take any more energy, as she would be using the same amount of words. (2) She would sound so much more intelligent. (Kind of like that old saying "Keep your mouth shut and let them speculate, open it and prove them right", or something like that)

I give my husband a hard time for doing the same sort of thing. I think having children has made me acutely aware of the way I speak, and the way others around us speak. I notice the way Little Man puts his words in order and make a point to correct him if necessary.

This isn't the only thing I have noticed about the use of our beloved language. What ever happened to writing thank you notes or letters? I know how much I love to get snail mail so I can only imagine how it makes others feel. To think that someone took the time to pick out paper or a note card, physically put thoughts together and on paper, and then find a stamp and mail the envelope makes me feel good.

The interesting thing about this is that it does not discriminate. I hear it from reporters on the news, kids at the mall and people working at the bank. Is it that we don't know or we just don't care what we are saying? At this rate, it can only get worse. What are earth are my great grandchildren going to say to me and how are they going to say it? Will they even have an English teacher in school?

Take The Long Way Home...

noreply@blogger.com (Our Crooked Tree) — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 02:51:00 +0000

Sometimes you feel like you're part of the scenery

Heading North out of Gulf Shores after a week at the beach. Gustav made for a long drive.