Does She Know You Call Her That?

In addition to being called Lala by an intimate circle of friends, there is an entirely different group of people who know me only as Chop. Pork Chop, if you want to be formal. Morsel de Corchant, if we are in Cajun Country.

I have Downtown Dad to thank for that ample lable. But in his defense, it has nothing to do with my shanks hocks rump physical appearance. It has more to do with City Council meetings and beer.

As is and always has been his custom, Downtown Dad was at a City Council meeting, and when the meeting was over, as is and always has been their custom, the esteemed gentlemen repaired to a local bar pub swillery meeting room to drink pound some beers have a cocktail and debreif. There is honor among these gentlemen, and if one city father buys a round of drinks has the floor, it is considered bad manners to leave before you've finished your beer interrupt. On one such occasion, Commissioner Marty was about to buy another round take the floor when Downtown Dad got up to leave, saying he had to get home to dinner. Being a gentleman of large girth stature in the community, he slammed Downtown Dad back on to the barstool persuaded Downtown Dad to stay for one more round to continue their civic debate. Downtown Dad, having a great amount of thirst respect for Miller Lite with olives this group of men, was only happy to oblige. He even took a minute to call and tell me he would be home soon. I told him not to take too long because I was making his favorite dinner, pork chops. This caused him jump up and announce to the whole room "I've got to go, I've got a pork chop waiting for me!" And the response, and you might have expected was "Does SHE know you call her that?"

The building I worked in was connected to City Hall, and the next day, I was greeted ever increasingly with "Hello Pork Chop" and a wink. Even after Downtown Dad explained the story to me, I fielded their good natured jabs with a self conscious grin and a backward glance, hoping it wasn't really my butt they were calling pork. The people in on the joke seemed to grow exponentially until just about everyone I knew called me Pork Chop. I knew I'd have to learn to live with the name while watching the 4th of July parade later that year. Those same City Councilmen came riding along on their float and when they saw me, they all yelled in unison, "Hi Pork Chop!"

On my 20th 29th 40th birthday that December, Downtown Dad decided to capitalize on all the pork choppyness and threw me a surprise birthday party at the same swillery meeting room where it all began. Anyone who happened by got a free pork chop grilled right there, and all they had to do was wish me a happy birthday. It was great fun and turned into an annual event until that unfortunate board of health incident the PETA protest we moved.

That oft repeated addage "A child who is loved has many names" is very true. Sure, there are the mean kids who have that uncanny nack of finding your greatest insecurity and giving it a name. Pork Chop sure isn't a name I would have picked for myself, and I certainly wouldn't want it in quotes between my first and last name on my headstone! But it has turned into a term of endearment over the years, and I wouldn't trade the memories that brought it about for the world!

What do the people you love call you? What is the story behind that name? Do you have different nicknames in different circles? Do you have a petname for someone? Tell me your story in the comments.

Quit Your Wine-ing

I didn't have time to make my lunch before work today. What with getting dogs fed, and getting kids up and showered, and writing a check for this school activity, digging for cash for something or other, and signing permission for that, hell, I only vaguely remember getting dressed myself. So, again I ended up at noon, rooting around in the office fridge, hoping for a forgotten slice of pizza. I settled for an unmarked yogurt with a relatively recent expiration date.

I'm trying NOT to buy my lunches, since now that I have a steady paycheck, we are putting an extra effort into paying off the credit card debt that I racked up while NOT making any money as a Realtor. I sat down at a table with some of the girls, to drink my free office coffee, and eat my purloined yogurt. One of them, the married-but-we-choose-not-to-have-kids one, was leisurely munching her homemade sandwich, and homemade cookies drinking her pop prominently labeled with her name, while reading the paper. She came across one of those financial advice columns titled "Do I Need A Bankruptcy Attorney?" and she asked us,

"I'm sorry but, how is it even possible for a person to rack up $100,000 in credit card debt?"

I briefly stopped licking the inside of the yogurt cup, and said simply, "Kids."

When confronted by her blank stare, I added, "ex-spouses debt."

When she still didn't seem to understand, I whispered conspiratorily, "borrowing from Peter to pay Paul."

This she seemed to understand, but only partially.

"But, Why?" she asked.

I patted her young hand, and in doing so, palmed the remaining uneaten quarter of her sandwich. "Well, when your kid pays for his college education with a credit card, on which you are the co-signor, and then defaults on it, and when your kids need not only school clothes, but costumes, uniforms, participation fees, and the occasional birthday gift, when your utility bills triple, and when a two paycheck household is reduced to one paycheck… let's just say those credit card offers come in mighty handy."

I popped the pilfered morsel into my mouth as she rolled her eyes smugly. "But you'd still pay off the balance every month, wouldn't you, I mean doesn't every one?"

"You would," I said taking a slurp from her unattended pop can, if you could afford it. But sometimes, you have to make the minimum payment, for a long time. And sometimes," I added, emptying the crumbs from a discarded bag of chips directly into my mouth, "you can't even afford to do that! Sometimes, you have to take a cash advance from one (or two or three) of those credit cards you can't make payments on, just to make the payments on other credit cards. That's what we call borrowing from Peter to pay Paul. Pretty soon, you're digging through your mail searching frantically for a note from a Peter, one of those offers with the checks attached, so you can pay a Paul, or make the house payment. And God forbid something doesn't go wrong with your car, or the washing machine doesn't give out, or the water heater, but it does, and then you have to run back to Peter and say, just one more man, just this one more time, I swear! I'm not buying boats, or expensive clothes, I'm just trying to raise good kids! And he gives you the money, but the interest rate is gonna be 25% and you say fine, because you know that next month there wont be so many extra expenses, but next month there are. The price of gas has gone up, and your kid needs braces, and your mom's 80th birthday is coming up and we're all going to chip in to buy her a trip, which turns out to be way more expensive than you were told because your older sister never comes through with the money even though she promises you she will. And your husband gets a raise and you think you start to see a light at the end of the tunnel and then he says 'hey, let's go out to dinner and celebrate' and what else can you say but 'well, OK' because you haven't gotten up the nerve to tell him that Peter, the loanshark is threatening to break your kneecaps if you can't come up with the money you owe by next week. And your poor blissfully unaware husband orders steak and buys an expensive bottle of wine and says 'thanks hon, for doing such a great job with the finances - I know it's been a little tricky now and then.' And then you drink the wine and realize that well, we've got our health, so cheers to that. And you realize that things aren't really all that bad after all."

"I still don't get it." said the married-but-we-choose-not-to-have-kids one, as she got up to leave. "If we somehow got that rediculously far in debt, my husband would never take me out to dinner, and we certainly wouldn't order wine..."

All I could do was shake my head, and polish off the cookies she left behind.

Fun Monday - My Day

The Fun Monday hostess for Monday October 20th is Sarah, from Sarah's Blog, who's Latin tag line seems to say Manure, manure, manure... I'm going to die. Huh? Sarah, is there a story behind this? Some deep existential meaning? A simple explanation? Oh well...

Sarah says this:
"I would like you to take your camera (or your artistic talents!) on a day tour with you. I want to know where you go, what you get up to on a “normal” day (disclaimer - it doesn’t have to be “normal”!)All the details you would consider boring! You are free to make your Fun Monday posts as long or as short as you’d like!"

Well Sarah, this is Sunday and here's what usually happens on Sundays in Lala Land:

Even when the alarm is off, the canine clock continues....

It starts with a cold nose and some sniffing sounds, then progresses to a sort of grunting noise, rather like a monkey. If I haven't responded by then, it's two paws up on the bed and the licking begins. There is no sleeping in with these dogs on duty - even on the weekend!

Chako and Zoey lead me downstairs to their food.

Chako gets a little bit extra from a can because underneath all that hair, he's skin and bones!

Zoey has to eat downstairs separately because she gets a measured amount since she tends to gain weight when we don't watch what she eats.

Oh, the Sunday paper is here!

Time for a cup of coffee

With my favorite Casablanca mug

and French Vanilla Coffee Mate

Its a good thing the dogs got me up - I might have missed CBS Sunday Morning! What is Sunday without Charles Kurault?

Coffee and the paper

Now that everyone else is up the birds want to get a little exercise too
And now a nice bowl of Cheerios for me

don't forget to brush my teeth

a quick check of email


Well, I've been putting it off for long enough, Ugh... laundry


At least I can watch TV on the big screen while I iron!

Jeez, is it lunchtime already? My how time flies when you're having fun!

A lovely grilled swiss cheese on rye with jalapeno jelly and apple slices- just for me!

Laundry folded and ready to put away

Now it's time to go to the grocery store. Can't forget my list (written on my old Realtor notepads)

Sun Mart!

Can't forget the reusable shopping bags

Sometimes three bags just isn't enough!

Here's our lovely fall/harvest decor. The golden leaves were Mother Natures addition!

Jarrod helps to carry in the groceries - What a good boy!

Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy and corn - a typical Midwestern Sunday dinner

Dinner at the table, what a nice way to end the day....