It says RESERVED PARKING, people!

Dear parents (whose kids attend the daycare at my next door neighbor's house),

YOU ARE PARKED IN MY RESERVED PARKING SPACE. Please MOVE YOUR VEHICLE immediately.

I know my neighbor's house is also a daycare where you drop your kids off in the mornings and pick them up in the evenings. I also know that my RESERVED parking space is very near to your daycare. However, that space with the big white letters that reads "RESERVED PARKING 100" is reserved for ME. I don't recall you contributing funds to the payment I make each month to the mortgage company for my house (and my RESERVED parking space).

Also, dear parents, when you are informed politely that you are parked in a RESERVED parking space, please do not give attitude by rolling your eyes and sucking your teeth, and please do not respond that you were only intending to park in the space for a couple of minutes. My RESERVED space is RESERVED for ME, not you. Please make a note of this before I am forced to practice random acts of vandalism on your vehicle.

Thank you for your support and understanding!

Sincerely,
Owner of RESERVED PARKING SPACE 100

Weight loss envy

I witnessed something bizarre today. It was at my second Weight Watchers weigh in (where I lost 2.2 lbs thank you very much). One woman lost 6 pounds after her first week of the diet. Immediately upon hearing the woman's delight, another woman said, "Weight Watchers doesn't allow that. It's not healthy." For some reason the frown on her face really cracked me up. She had weight loss envy.

Doesn't everyone know that a person can lose almost 10 pounds of WATER WEIGHT during the first couple of weeks of a diet! Sheesh. She continued to mention this perceived unhealthiness throughout our meeting. I've decided that my weight loss goal for next week will be 7 pounds. I want to really freak her out...LOL

Designers don't like me

I wonder sometimes why God decided to make me physically different from the average woman. He "blessed" me with arms that are too long for most shirts and coats, legs that are not short enough for average length pants and not long enough for tall pants (I swear I fall right in the middle), hands that are too large for gloves (they're always too tight), a head that's too big for hats, and feet that are too big and too wide. I wear an 11 wide! Who can find decent looking shoes in that size?! Parade of Shoes used to be my favorite (and only) shoe store, but then they closed. WHY? Now I'm forced to buy ugly, expensive shoes online. It's so not fair!

Don't designers know that there are women out there that need coats with longer arms, and cute shoes for the over 10 Medium crowd? I guess not, since I still don't have a decent winter coat and I have corns on my feet. Sigh...

My first diary

The first time I attempted to write my thoughts down, I was 11 or 12 years old with a brand new diary. I wrote when I was happy, I wrote when I was sad, but most of all I wrote when I was mad. It's the mad parts that can get you in trouble. The only entry that I remember from those days was the infamous: "I hate my dad". I remember it because my dad found my diary years after I had abandoned it, read it, and then read it to me. Embarrassing is not even the word.

Of course, dad is my buddy now.

This blog is my first attempt since then to track my random thoughts. Hopefully I don't end up embarrassing myself again along the way. ;-)


*Happy birthday, Grandma. I will love and miss you always.*