YOU’RE KIDDING!
Each day is an opportunity to learn…but there are some things I wish I didn’t know!
The latest “insight” came in a small envelope in the mail. It was a thank-you for a hand-knitted baby gift, a gift I spent hours making. It wasn’t a traditional thank-you note with a gracious acknowledgement of my thoughtful gift. No! It was a “thank-you card” with spaces to be filled in. The first line had “Dear” followed by a line. The sender filled in my name. Second line: “Thank you for the___________________.” (Type of baby gift was added.) The sender didn’t even have to put in the period. How easy! The third line stated “It was so sweet!” The sender didn’t have to bother with this assessment. It was preprinted. (I wonder if all the gifts she received, such as diapers, spit cloths, etc. was “sweet.”) Finally, there was a “Love,” and then a line on which the sender added her name, her husband’s name and the baby’s name. Whoa! This sender really doesn’t know me well enough to use a closing of “Love.” But “Love” was the only option available on the pre-printed thank-you card.
I know new mothers are often overwhelmed. But this was a first child. There are no other little ones at home vying for attention. And don’t new babies sleep a lot? Wasn’t there just a few minutes available for a gracious, hand-written note? After all, I gave my time and money to have a “sweet gift” for the newcomer. Don’t I deserve more?
In these times of searching for the easiest and most efficient way of doing things, this preprinted thank-you card may be considered acceptable. After all there are those impersonal, pre-printed holiday cards. I, however, don’t think that ease and efficiency should replace good manners. I’ve learned the hard way—I took a survey of friends young and old—that I may be alone in my belief that this thank-you card was tasteless. “It’s better than not getting anything at all,” one peer said.
What is your opinion of this type of acknowledgement for a gift? Am I being too hard on the young mother, who, coincidentally had an easy delivery and was up and out shopping three days after the birth? I am interested in knowing if I’m way off track or if the new mother is. I’m always open to learning something new!

Posted by Sandra Dalka-Prysby at 09:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

WHERE’S MY BUNNY?
Many times it’s best to keep some things private. I learned this the hard way when my close girlfriend found my security bunny (that’s the name the manufacturer gave this item) after I spent the night at her place.
This small blanket shaped like a bunny has been my bedtime friend since I was born almost 24 years ago. Over my early years, my bunny was replaced at least five times after it was lost or it shredded after numerous trips to the washing machine. The one I still have is the very last one my mom got for me and, luckily, it has survived the years. (The survival is because I long ago gave up sucking my thumb while running my fingers along the bunny’s satin edging. Since elementary school, the bunny’s sole job has been to rest under my pillow.)
Having this bunny with me provides me with comfort. Because of this, I often put it in my overnight bag or suitcase when I’m away from home. Most times it stays in the bag or suitcase. Just knowing it’s there is all I need. Somehow my bunny escaped from my bag at my friend’s house. My secret was out and now my friend shows me no mercy. Luckily, she hasn’t shared my secret with others, but she is relentless in her teasing.
“Is bunny going out with us tonight?” she’ll ask as we’re getting ready for a night out. “Where’s bunny when we need him?” she’ll say when we’re at a party where we don’t know many guests. (I guess she wants comfort, too!)
Recently my friend and I went on a vacation to Florida. Bunny, of course, was in my suitcase. When I gave her permission to borrow some suntan lotion, which was in my suitcase, she discovered bunny. For the rest of the vacation, I’d find my lifelong bedtime buddy in various locations in the room. It made a trip to the bathtub; I found it reading the Gideon Bible; it hung one day from the overhead light; it was hidden all balled up in one of my bras. At first, the bunny’s sittings were amusing. Then they started to get old. Enough was enough!
I never meant for my bunny to make public appearances. It was meant only to be what its name implied: my little sense of security. Now that I’m all grown up it was time for bunny to retire to a box and be put away and saved to show my future children. And that’s exactly what happened to my security bunny when I returned home from my trip. (It nice to know, however, that bunny is just a few steps away in my closet!)

Posted by Emily Prysby at 09:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

WHERE’S MY BUNNY?
Many times it’s best to keep some things private. I learned this the hard way when my close girlfriend found my security bunny (that’s the name the manufacturer gave this item) after I spent the night at her place.
This small blanket shaped like a bunny has been my bedtime friend since I was born almost 24 years ago. Over my early years, my bunny was replaced at least five times after it was lost or it shredded after numerous trips to the washing machine. The one I still have is the very last one my mom got for me and, luckily, it has survived the years. (The survival is because I long ago gave up sucking my thumb while running my fingers along the bunny’s satin edging. Since elementary school, the bunny’s sole job has been to rest under my pillow.)
Having this bunny with me provides me with comfort. Because of this, I often put it in my overnight bag or suitcase when I’m away from home. Most times it stays in the bag or suitcase. Just knowing it’s there is all I need. Somehow my bunny escaped from my bag at my friend’s house. My secret was out and now my friend shows me no mercy. Luckily, she hasn’t shared my secret with others, but she is relentless in her teasing.
“Is bunny going out with us tonight?” she’ll ask as we’re getting ready for a night out. “Where’s bunny when we need him?” she’ll say when we’re at a party where we don’t know many guests. (I guess she wants comfort, too!)
Recently my friend and I went on a vacation to Florida. Bunny, of course, was in my suitcase. When I gave her permission to borrow some suntan lotion, which was in my suitcase, she discovered bunny. For the rest of the vacation, I’d find my lifelong bedtime buddy in various locations in the room. It made a trip to the bathtub; I found it reading the Gideon Bible; it hung one day from the overhead light; it was hidden all balled up in one of my bras. At first, the bunny’s sittings were amusing. Then they started to get old. Enough was enough!
I never meant for my bunny to make public appearances. It was meant only to be what its name implied: my little sense of security. Now that I’m all grown up it was time for bunny to retire to a box and be put away and saved to show my future children. And that’s exactly what happened to my security bunny when I returned home from my trip. (It nice to know, however, that bunny is just a few steps away in my closet!)

Posted by Emily Prysby at 09:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

MY SPACE
It seemed like a good idea. All my friends were doing it. I decided that I, too, would get on My Space. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this website, it’s a place where you can keep in touch with friends and others. You can personalized your own space on the site with music, a colorful background, photos and information to let all those who visit know who you are and what you’re doing. It’s like your very own webpage.
I had fun putting my space together. I selected music that truly reflected my style and photos that showed my fun-loving nature. Now I was ready to see how many friends would visit my space. A control measure with this website allows the participants to select who is allowed to be your friend and, if you agree, these friends have access to your space.
When I first ventured into My Space, I allowed anyone who asked full access to my space. Big mistake! I learned the hard way that being selective is a good thing.
The first week I was listed in My Space, I got messages from an abundance of men who wanted access. Sure, I thought. No big deal! But I was wrong. All the nation’s creeps found their way to my page. They asked me for meetings. They asked me for dates. They asked me what I liked to do in the bedroom. Yuk! This is when I learned for myself that predators do prowl the internet. I didn’t want any part of this.
My My Space site, however, didn’t just bring out the weirdos. Some high school and college friends whom I had lost touch with found my site. Even some long-lost grade school friends sent messages. My space on the My Space site allowed me to become reacquainted with these people either on my site or by visiting their site. This has been the best part of my My Space experience.
I’m still on My Space, but I have limited access to my information. I only let in those people who I want to share this information with. I no longer get weird proposals…well, a few maybe, but they are from the weirdos I know. In this internet society, it’s important to keep personal information safe from not only hackers. It’s also important to keep yourself safe from would-be attackers. It’s better to be safe than sorry!
###

Posted by Emily Prysby at 09:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

MEETING MEN IN BARS
I always heard that you don’t meet good men in bars. In the past I didn’t listened to this advice because I figure that I’m a good woman and I go to bars. There must be some good men that go to these establishments too! But I’ve changed my thinking and I now know that this advice is based, in part, on truth. I’ve learned the hard way that a lot of jerks spend a lot of time in bars. (This is something I don’t do. My visits are once in a while with friends when we don’t have something else to do.)
Now I’m not talking about meeting a guy or a friend after work or on weekends for a drink. This is an acceptable social activity. I’m talking about men who regularly hang out at bars—the kind who have their own bar stools. I’ve learned to be wary of these “lounge lizards.” They are the ones who are always drunk and in search of an easy and willing female. Who wants one of these? No matter how good looking they are these men are far removed from any prince-charming status.
So how do I handle the bar scene? I never go to a bar alone. I never accept a drink from a stranger. I never give out my home phone or cell number. If some man looks promising, I’ll tell him where I work. If he’s interested and not so drunk that his memory function is hampered, he’ll know how to track me down at work. Better yet! I’ll ask him for his business card. If he doesn’t have one, I’m a bit leery. He could be married. Of course, there are reasons for not having a business card. He could be, for instance, a full-time student seeking advanced education.
Some of you may be thinking that I’m a snob because I primarily only consider men with business cards. I’m not a snob, but I worked hard to get a college degree and to find a professional job. I have business cards because I have a good position. I would like the same from possible dating candidates. A business card is one way of determining if a potential dating candidate has the same drive that I have. This provides a good starting point for friendship or a relationship.
I now have a large collection of business cards which I use only for reference. I never call a man that I have met in a bar. I let them make the first move by calling me. Although this is the 21st century, I’m an old-fashioned gal. I like to be pursued, but only by good and sober guys. Getting connected with a drunk at a bar isn’t for me.
###

Posted by Emily Prysby at 09:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

A CLEARER VISION ON SPRING CLEANING!

Everybody seems to be excited that spring has finally arrived. Sure…spring means warmer weather, more daylight and the chance to spend days outside watching crocus, daffodil and tulip risings. I learned, however, that spring can also be depressing. Just look out the windows during this “new birth” season and you can see what I mean. The dirty windows are just one indication of how much work needs to be done at this time of year. It’s spring cleaning time and who likes to clean? I know I don’t!
Okay! I have some pride so I, too, will get out the Windex and go to work. But wait! How do you get rid of all those streaks that seem to make my windows look worse than before I started the cleaning job? Windex doesn’t quite cut all the grime…nor does vinegar and water.
Martha to the Rescue
Alas! Martha Stewart seems to have the answer for everything. I’ll go to her website and find out the “correct” way to clean windows. This year I will have the shiniest and cleanest windows in the neighborhood. Okay, Martha, what do I do?
For this job, Martha lists the need for nine tools and materials. I need NINE things just to wash the windows? Then she lists eight steps for washing windows. EIGHT steps!
I know that this woman is the domestic goddess, but this doesn’t mean that I have to follow her. Besides when my windows are too clean birds dive bomb into them thinking that they aren’t there. Over the past 30 years I’ve had to bury birds twice because of clean, shining windows. (Those two times were when the windows were professionally cleaned.) So maybe I’ll just use my Windex and some paper towel this year or, as a concession to Martha, I use a lint-free cloth, such as huckaback. (What the heck is huckaback? Forget this!)
Perfection…Hardly
So with streaks in my windows, I’ll enjoy spring and the three other seasons of the year. Now for my carpets. It’s that time of year to bring out the rug shampooer and go to work. Where the heck is that rug shampooer anyway? And I guess I should tackle the two-inch layer of dust on everything. (How many steps does Martha have for removing dust?)
I’ve learned the hard way (especially when it’s time to entertain and I realize just how dirty my house is) that if I cleaned a little more on a regular basis I would be ahead of the game. I wouldn’t be so depressed when spring arrives. Besides, isn’t spring the time to begin working on the gardens and lawns? I’m spending so much time trying to clean up my house after months of a cleaning lax that there’s little time for outdoor chores. Do you think this is why our grass and flowers look so pitiful during the summer months? Maybe I do need Martha after all!

Posted by Sandra Dalka-Prysby at 03:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)