The Styrofoam Box

I have never been a true fan of meat.  I maybe eat it two or three times a week at the most.  Meat just doesn’t do the same for me as a piece of warm, fresh baked bread, or the sweet taste of warm chocolate chip cookies with a glass of ice cold milk.  And ice cream!  Aaah… ice cream, with its cool, creamy texture and amazing flavors.   And then there’s candy.  I can have a craving for a piece of candy where someone is going to get hurt if I don’t get a piece in my mouth at that moment.  But with meat… never has there been this longing.  But then there was this one Christmas.

Who doesn’t love Christmas?  I love being home and baking holiday treats, taking in all the Christmas decorations, listening to Christmas music, watching Christmas Story, and… listening for the UPS truck!  That quick knock, knock, knock and you run to open the door, and there it is… a package!  Well, last year, I quickly responded to the knock, knock, knock only to find a large styrofoam package.  Weird right?  I looked at the return address and it was from a meat company!  OK, so who buys there meat online?  First of all I was always taught that you carefully take care of your meat or you’ll get a disease!  Someone shipped us meat?  Who knows where it’s been?  It could have been baking in the desert for all I know!  I mean really, who knows where this package has been and where it has been sitting?  Second, my Grandpa was a butcher and he taught me how to pick out meat and it was a careful, tedious task.  I mean he picked out meat more carefully than most people pick out their future spouse!  So, who picked out this meat?  Were they qualified?

I was wrong… so wrong.  Let me just say, I now know that I had never really tasted meat.  That styrofoam box contained real meat.  Meat that melted in my mouth like fondant candy.  Savory, tasty meat that I wanted… and now crave. 

Oh I hope I see that styrofoam box on my porch again.

I participated in a campaign for Bucks2Blog.  However, the views and opinions are my own.

The Men in My Family and Cars

In my family, the mere mention of a car, in anyway brought instant attention by my father and brother.  For example, I could simply say, “I need to go to the store to buy shampoo, but the car is low on gas.”  Having used the word “car” and “buy” together in any way, this would be interpreted as it is time to “buy” a new “car”.  Without hesitation, both my Dad and brother would be in heavy conversation as to what automobile is the best at this time.  I throw in the “at this time” because they have a favorite for each year.

The other interesting thing about this obsession with purchasing cars is that they take such meticulous care of their cars there is no need to purchase a car… ever.  Meticulous doesn’t do this justice. 

To be brief, here is an example of what I mean by meticulous.  There was a hard fast rule that we were never to eat in my Dad’s car.  Of course I never did.  I knew better.  I would have to be an idiot to attempt eating anything in my Dad’s car.  Right?  There was the time he came in from the garage with a single sesame seed on his index finger.  A single sesame seed!  Not even a piece of bun attached to it!  A single seed!   How does one clean their car so thoroughly as to find a single sesame seed!  Who does that?  Well, this was routine for my Dad.

The research they found necessary to search for the perfect auto would rival any master’s thesis.  And this search is not restricted to the immediate surrounding area.  Any vehicle worthy of the purchase within the 48 continental United States is deemed within reach.  A 15 passenger van was purchased in Michigan to be used by my somewhat large family in Utah.  A white Volkswagen bug was purchased in Las Vegas for use by my niece in Michigan.  No car is safe when the men in my family are out looking.

I must admit that it does come in rather handy when you are looking for a car because two more dedicated research analysts you will never find.  And I have been the beneficiary of their in depth studies on more than one occasion, so who am I to deny them this obsession?  And when in need of their services I simply mention in passing, “I’m going to run to buy some milk.  I’m taking the car.”

I  am participating in a campaign for Bucks2Blog about Chicago Hyundai and was compensated, however the views and opinions are my own.

Blog? What's A Blog?

I have no idea why we call it a “blog”.  Or who came up with the name “blog”?  And even as my daughter is explaining that a “blog” is a type of “web log” I am very slow putting it together that they took the ‘b’ in “web” and connected it to the “log” to come up with “blog”.  Further explanation of how I maintain my blog included such terms as “blog URL”, “back end”, “Google doc” and “bounce rate” only add to my  confusion.

URL?  She says it is an address for my blog?   It must be an acronym?  Perhaps “Understood Residents Logistics?  My internet investigation indicates that URL is a “Universal Resource Locator”.  I am kind of close.

And I can access my blog on the “back end”?  How would I go behind my blog?  Is there a back door that I can go through to get to my blog?  Apparently there is a back door.

After working several years in a warehouse setting, when I heard “Google doc” I honestly picture all the blogs showing up on an internet dock of some kind, to be shipped to various locations, or Understood Resident Logistics.

And “bounce rate”?  As a mother of seven children, my first thoughts go to either how fast you can dribble a basketball, or a dryer sheet. 

But it’s funny how when you find out you can make money blogging, it all becomes so clear.  “Of course I blog.”  “My URL is…”  And I also know how to go behind my blog.  Heck… I even know how to access my “dashboard”!  When money’s involved, it becomes somuchmore.

I am participating in a blogger campaign by Bucks2Blog and was compensated, however, the views and opinions are my own.

Tricky and Over Done

Going back to school to obtain your masters degree is a challenging, yet rewarding goal.  First and foremost, your earning potential greatly increases.  In addition, your opportunities for advancement increase.  And if you’re lucky enough to work for an employer who will help pay for the tuition, then why not?  Well… going back to school can be tricky… and it can be over done.

In 1979 I left San Diego for BYU in Provo, Utah to begin my college education.  Although I thoroughly enjoyed the change in climate… I became directionally impaired without the ocean as my compass.  My goal was to obtain a Bachelors Degree in Physical Education and become a PE teacher who was not overweight and out of shape.  All in all my first semester went very smoothly aside from an annoying cough I had acquired.  During Christmas break, it became apparent that I was too sick to return to Utah.  This is where “going back to school” became a profession. 

I transferred to UCSD for the following semester.  A beautiful campus and I managed to complete another semester before taking another break.  This time I was out for a year… a year of doctors and hospitals.  But after the year I was good to go… and back to school I went.

I flew west to one of my best friends… and the BYU Hawaii campus.  I changed my major to Recreation Management because I was unable to maintain the physical requirements to be a PE major.  This change in major allowed me to take… among other things… hula and basket weaving.  Both fulfilled requirements for a Recreation Management major, however, when you take classes of this caliber you are expected to ace them.  I managed a 4.0 with this daunting schedule… both semesters. 

I then returned to BYU Provo and put another year under my belt. 

Then a serious detour from my college education… but one of the best decisions I’ve ever made… I got married.  Naturally, children followed and my degree was getting farther and farther from reach.  I did attempt one last going back to college at Weber University in Ogden, Utah.  Once again, I changed my major.  I chose Communications and Public Relations which seemed more applicable to my life.

So my goal of obtaining a Bachelors Degree in Physical Education has been a journey of twists and turns, taking breaks and going  back.  I don’t miss being a PE teacher.  I was one.  I satisfied that dream by raising seven extremely active children.  I have completed enough time as Mom managing recreation for these same children.  But now as I delve into the public speaking arena… I must admit that a Communications and Public Relations degree would prove helpful.  And I’m only one year away.

The newspaper had a picture of a 93 year old woman who had just recently graduated from Weber State University.  At 50, I’m a little over half her age.  Maybe I could go back to college and finish up.  And while I’m there I might as well get that Masters Degree.  Maybe I will.

I am participating in a blogger campaign by Bucks2Blog for a full time MBA school and was compensated, however, the views and opinions are my own.