I’m having one of those moments when I have a nice long conversation with myself. I’ve already had 6 of the cookies in the pack and according to the nutrition label, I’ve had one serving. Who determines one serving? Do they have normal women like myself sitting around eating cookies waiting until the button on the front of their pants pops off then say, “There we go, that’s one serving.”
Cookie, cake, and now candy companies are making it easier for us with 100 calorie packs. I open my favorite cookie company’s 100 calorie pack happy I’m not staring at an open package. Inside there are two cookies. What? You’ve got to be kidding me? A serving? My husband laughs and says, “Man what a rip off. At least you’ll know that you’ve eaten 500 calories when you finish off the rest of the packages.”
I try to forget what constitutes a serving as I get disgusted with myself and hide the open package of cookies where I can’t find it. Fifteen minutes later and I find it (Hmmm) and eat another for good luck. Another hour will pass and I finally convince myself that if I just eat the rest of the package and vow never to buy cookies again, that’s the best way to control my weight.
What’s your take on the 100 calorie packs, fact for fiction?
Where Were You On September 11, 2001?
I had always heard people say, ‘I remember exactly where I was the day Kennedy was shot…’, but in my life time there had not been very many events that altered the course of our country’s history, until September 11, 2001. I remember the Challenger space shuttle exploding as I watched on tv. I was on the phone booking a modeling job and I dropped the phone and started crying as the cameras panned to the faces of family members of the crew. I was sick on my stomach, but that didn’t compare to September 11, 2001. I was getting ready to go to my Sculpt class at the West Forsyth YMCA and as I tied my shoes, I saw the first plane hit the tower in Manhatten, a city I love. I waited for Katie Couric and Matt Lauer to say that it was a scene from a new sci-fi movie, but there was disbelief and a pause of silence. I quickly realized that the scene was real and that something had gone terribly wrong. I slowly sat down on the end of my bed and began to cry. As the second plane hit the other tower, I began calling friends to validate the terror I felt. We all shared the pain and the heartache and asked ‘Why?’ To this day, I think if I had been God, I would’ve zapped the terrorists and taken them out. Then I think if I would’ve had the presence of mind like those of Flight 93 to sacrifice my life to save others. Would I have said ‘Let’s roll’? Would you?
Most Recent Trip of Over 50 Miles…
The older I get the more the Eddie Money song ‘I Wanna Go Back’ means to me. As far as I am concerned, the 1980’s were the decade. Big hair, boy bands, great music- there’s not much I don’t like about the ‘80’s. With that in mind, I really like re-visiting places where memories were good and times were fun. Once such place was Athens, Georgia, home of the Georgia Bull Dawgs (yes that is spelled correctly). Although I only attended UGA for one year, I love the dawgs and watch each and every football game, but had never returned since I moved home to finish my degree at UNC-G in 1988. (Has that been as long ago as it looks when it is typed?) Anyway, this past year, I told my husband that I wanted tickets to see UGA play at Sanford Stadium for my Christmas present; I got ‘em! We traveled to Athens for the UGA vs. Ga. Tech game. I was so excited! We stayed the weekend at the hotel where I attended freshmen orientation in 1987. At every corner, there was a memory. I even saw the shoe store when I bought my first and only pair of Sebagos, top siders, which I still have to this day and wear. How many shoes can you say that about? My only regret is that I didn’t make this pilgrimage sooner. What have I been waiting for? Are there places that give you a good feeling? Where are they and what happened at those places that make you smile? Don’t wait some 20 plus years, make that trip and holler for your team like you still walked the campus in those 22 year old top siders…Where do you want to go?
By Carolyn S. Peterson
My Favorite School Supply
In the 7th and 8th grades, I worked in the little school supply store at Northwest Junior High School in Winston-Salem. To tell you the truth, it was a closet, not a store with a Dutch door that we opened the top and kept the bottom closed. Strangely, I loved the way the ‘closet’ smelled and my favorite smell was the crumbly little eraser. You know the ones- they looked like a little brownish block and crumbled to the touch when it hit paper. I also loved the way a pencil box smelled, like untapped stories yet to be dreamed. Each morning when I opened the box, I was hit with the smell of freshly sharpened #2 pencils, prepared the day before, erasers, those crumbly ones and miscellaneous supplies that I would need throughout the day. To this day, I love to wander through an office supply store and go down the aisle of school supplies. Such a variety these days- magic markers in every color and ones that erase, paper clips that coordinate with paper, pencils with never ending lead; anything a kid could need, but wouldn’t life be simpler with the #2 pencils again and those crumbly little erasers? All the gizmos today, in my opinion, only get in the way of the basics. Your basic pencil box supplies are all you needed and might spark a little creativity in today’s kids? What do you think?
By Carolyn S. Peterson
What’s your favorite Infomercial?
By Kelly Melang
My favorite infomercial is Loud and Clear. I want to turn my ordinary hearing into extraordinary hearing when raising two boys. This would stop trouble before it starts as I HEAR:
“Come on Max, go ahead and cut your hair. We’ll look like wrestlers.”
“Does it hurt to cut your hair, Wolfgang?”
“Come on, we’ll cut the dog’s hair first and see if it hurts her.”
Without Loud and Clear, I’d see my once long haired dog walk by with a Mohawk and wonder what in the world happened, until my children walk by with Mohawks.
I could hear the sound of a pin drop from across the room. I can hear the dog sniffing for a place to leave a surprise package from upstairs rather than walking through the house wondering, “What’s that smell?”
With Loud and Clear, I can listen in on my neighbors. I’d hear them say, “That Melang house, do you think they can finally get the toys out of the front yard?” The other neighbor would reply, “With that many toys, they must be doing very well.”
I’d wear my Miracle Ear on my runs and listen to the lovely sounds of nature amplified, so the low growl of the dog waiting to bite me in the rear is avoided.
I could listen in to everyone at the YMCA. I could hear, “Isn’t she sweaty? Don’t get on the treadmill next to her, you’ll get soaked!” At the cocktail party, “Did you see Kelly Melang, she’s really been working out a lot! I wish I could look like Kelly Melang.”
Ahh, Loud and Clear, I what could you hear if your ordinary hearing turned into extraordinary hearing?
There’s a internet joke making rounds regarding Chinese food, it pokes fun at the names of some of the dishes like-GoLik Chicken, and Hung Lo Guy and Sum Guy Go Yuk.
When I order Chinese food I always get a little nervous if it has meat in it. I traveled through Hong Kong and ordered Fried Rice, which was served with a nice chicken’s foot sitting on top of the dish. The business associates joked that they didn’t serve dog or cat but that was always followed by a wink. One even ordered coagulated chicken’s blood which looked like red Jello. Needless to say, I’ve been ordering vegetarian dishes ever since.
We called to order Chinese and my husband was having a hard time getting the order right with the other end of the phone. He tried speaking slowly and she didn’t get it.
Finally I was shocked to hear him say, “Yuuu kno wheerree we liiiveee, yu been heeerree beffooore.”
He hangs up the phone and I ask, “Who are you Jackie Chan?”
“Why were you talking with a Chinese Accent?”
“Oh, was I? I didn’t notice.”
I laugh about it and hope that the restaurant gets the order right. Does it happen to you, do you find yourself sitting with friends who are British and saying, “Oh yes, I would like a spot of tea.” With a British accent? Talking with someone that has an Australian accent and finishing your sentence with “Mate?” Even closer to home, getting more of a Southern twang as you talk with Southern Friends?
I have a conspiracy theory about hair dressers. They have this invisible network that connects with the existing satellite networks to track their clients as they go about their daily life. Employees sit in a small windowless room with Hanger 59 style computers showing where their clients are:
“OK, who’s on board for this week.”
“We’ve got Kelly Melang scheduled on Wednesday for a haircut and highlight.”
“OK, let’s find her. Here she is. Oh good, she’s getting ready to go out to dinner.”
“Great let’s do it right now.”
“No, wait for it…..wait for it…wait for it.”
I’m walking out to my car, getting ready to go out to dinner. I feel sexy, I feel sassy. I get in the car and adjust the rearview mirror taking another look at my sexiness.
Back in that windowless room, she says, “Now!”
I look and all of sudden there’s a puff of air and my hair stands on end. My hair looks like humidity, pollution; age and dirt have all left their mark. In a panic I try to smooth it down. It jumps back up and the gray stands out like the wart on the end of a witch’s nose. Man, how can I go out like this? I run back inside and pull out the gel, the hairspray, finally resorting to Super Glue.
Back in that windowless room, the hairdresser walks in and high fives the two employees. “Great job, now go ahead and call her to confirm her appointment for this week.”
What do you think? What happens to your hair at exactly 6 weeks?
I once paid top dollar for a room in London because it was “en-suite”, meaning a bathroom in the room. What I was not aware of was that the bathroom was a space age looking pod in the middle of the room that belched sewer smelling gases anytime anyone above us used their “en-suite” shower.
We once traveled to Mexico and couldn’t afford much for a hotel room. For our “cheap” rate we got a two room hut that opened up to the ocean on the beach with the sound of donkeys braying. This still goes down as the best room we ever had, even if the amenities were pretty scarce! Our best memory is when they played our wedding song on the radio – in Mexico with only two channels.
In New York we ordered coffee for four people from our “moderately” priced hotel room. The coffee was OK, but the bill for 67.00 to cover 4 cups of coffee and two orange juices was outrageous!
Our favorite was traveling with my husband’s parents and booking an expensive room (for us) and a cheaper room (for them) at the same hotel. Our room had a lovely stain in the middle of the bed that resembled dried blood, and I had to stand up so Jeff could walk by to get to the bathroom. My husband’s parents complained that their room was cheap, it had only a couch and a chair and a separate bathroom with a tub! After checking with the desk we found they had our room! Of course, we didn’t say a thing—until after the trip!
What stories do you have about travels and hotel rooms?
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