The MommyRoo Blog

Getting back on the topic of booking my flight home to see my dying grandpa, let me tell you how unbelievably pissed off I am at Orbitz.  I spend 2 1/2 hours last night trying to book a flight back to Michigan.  My tickets were listed at $398 and when I went to purchase them, I got an error message saying the price had changed to due reservations through the airline and my price was now $517!  $517???  What the fuck?!   Oh…not to mention I couldn’t even book the $517 flight…it wouldn’t take me anywhere in the site except back to the same page I was just on.

So I called to see what the issue was.   Upon being connected to outsource to India  (let me tell you how happy that made me when I was already irate.   And don’t get the wrong idea…I have plenty of friends who are from out of this country, but when I can’t understand what you are saying to me on a customer service call because Orbitz is too damn cheap to pay Americans and would rather rip off these poor unsuspecting foreigners…I get pissed the hell off!) and trying to figure my error out with the lady, she no longer could even find my flight in their computer system and then told me their system was going through maintenance and to call back in a half an hour.

Do you know what happens to airfare late at night during a half an hour.  It goes up.  A LOT!  During this half an hour, I decide to just call Northwest Airlines, since the flights I would be flying are all theirs anyway.  The customer service lady there was very kind and did her best to help me, but the prices were still not even close to the original ones I was going to buy my tickets for.

So a half an hour later I call back.  By the end of this call he can offer me tickets for $550 some dollars.  You’ve got to be kidding me.  Apparently, he submitted my complaint to tech support.  Riiiiigggghhhhtttt.  So I submitted one, too.  We’ll see how that goes, because I highly doubt Orbitz will do anything about it.  Which is bullshit.

The moral of my story is, don’t use Orbitz.  They are a pain the ass to deal with and use false advertising.  Not to mention, they don’t support American jobs.  So I can now thank Priceline for getting me a decent flight for well under $500.

The last few weeks have been difficult.  On my way home from Jason’s family’s property an hour from where we live, I got a disturbing voice mail on my phone.  My grandfather, who has been diagnosed with dementia wasn’t waking up and was in the hospital.

My grandfather has been in the hospital several times.  Every time he goes, I never really worry too much that he’s there, because I always just assume he will get out within a day.  Which is true.  Even this time, he was out within a day.  But this time, it was different.  For the first time it hit me that something was very wrong.  My gut instinct on this one told me things were not good.

Following the news he was in the hospital, the diagnosis was that he was old and needed to be taken care of by a hospice nurse.  Not good.  Anything dealing with the word, hospice, is never a good thing.  So I had to make a decision.  Do I go home to Michigan and see my dying grandpa, for which will likely be my last time ever seeing him or do I  not go and maybe fly back for the funeral to support my mom and grandma?

In making my decision it was perhaps my grandma who put it best.  “Deanna, you have two options.  Do you want to see grandpa alive or dead?”  Those words hit me like a rock.  Because, sadly, that is the terrible reality of the situation.  And I chose alive.

As hard as this trip is going to be, I need to go say goodbye to my grandpa.  I dearly love him and I need to let him know this before he goes off to the white light in the sky.   I’m hoping going to see him will give me some closure.  I get the opportunity to tell a loved one goodbye before they die and I think I need to take it.

I’m venting.  I try to be a generally nice person, but in this specific instance, I feel the need to vent.  I feel the need to vent especially over wealthy, middle-aged men who feel like they are better than everyone else they meet and because of their status, everyone should practically bow down at their feet.  Well, I have two words for you.  Fuck off.  Don’t assume that just because I’m a 1) woman (which for some reason makes some men automatically jump to the immediate conclusion that I was born without a brain in my head) and 2) younger than you, that I’m an idiot.  News flash.  I’m not.  You can try to be as arrogant and pigheaded as you want, but I hate to tell you…you are no better than me.  In fact, I’m very positive, that the only way you have made it this far in the world is because you have won by intimidation.  Too bad you know me.  Because I, for one, am not intimidated.  I see you as you are.  An asshole.  At least I get some satisfaction knowing that at least I’ll have done some good in the world and not have gotten there by being a prick.  Put that in your pipe and smoke it…dillweed.

Ah…that felt good.  But seriously…I’m so tired of people treating me like I’m a five year old that has lived in a bubble.  I’m done with it.  Treat me with respect or don’t talk to me.  I deserve just as much respect as you assume I should be giving you.  In my vent…I’m talking about a current client of the company I work for.  I’m sure he doesn’t see himself this way.  But he is.  And it’s degrading and uncalled for.  However, this topic also ties in to my recent trip to the car dealership…please read ahead.

I get it.  I pull up and you think you can sell me a car and charge me up the ass for it.  Unfortunately…once again…I’m not an idiot.  I’ve been researching cars for more than a few months now.  And I mean researching.  I compare prices, I compare models and makes, I read reviews, and I run reports on VIN numbers multiple times a day.  I check for a car at dealerships, I check for a car through a private party, and I’ve been listening to what people around me have to say about cars they have heard about.  I am a car dealership’s worst nightmare.  Today was no different when I decided to go to my local Honda dealer.  I wanted to see what they had to offer as far as used cars, and after being stalked around the parking lot and traded off to another salesman (I’m pretty sure because the first one realized there was no winning with me) who I was trying to get leasing pricing from and then traded off (because I think I scared poor young salesman number 2) to the service manager , who was another one of the previously mentioned middle-aged men I was referring to, I still never got my pricing for a lease.  I don’t think they liked how many times I used the words, “no”, “non-negotiable”, “highest payment”, “I’m not taking it for a test drive before you get me pricing”, and “no, I will not fill out your credit app just so you can get me a ballpark figure.”  I’m still trying to figure out why I don’t know how much a general price for a lease would be.  Oh wait…I do know the answer to that.  It’s because I’m a woman, who is young, who some would assume to be a pushover.  Too bad Honda…because you’ve lost my business for being annoyingly arrogant and assuming.

Vent complete.

That’s right. We got a puppy. I’ve been dying to have my very own squeezable, lovable, companion for years now and I finally have a life where we could get one. So with much persuasion and puppy shopping, we got Nala. She is mostly St. Bernard, partial Sneaky Fence Jumper. Adorable as can be and a giant pain in the you know what. But I love her anyway. She’s turning out to be quite the good little pup.

Gilda Radner once said, “Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity.” The concept of simply “living in the moment”, I’m finding, is one that has never impacted me quite as hard as it is now.

From the time we are young and barely in school we are asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” When I stop and think about it, I wonder when exactly is it that we unknowingly go from being an innocent child to the equivocal adult we’ve somehow become? When you are a child every day is aspiring to be an adult and to learn something new, find something new, do something new. Every day is imagining what the next will bring and conjuring up imaginary goals to determine what we will be when we “grow up”. But even from the time we are young, we aren’t taught “what are you going to do today to make today the most exquisite day you can possible make it?” It is a constant battle from youth to strive to live for tomorrow instead of today.

Now, as I am parked centrally in my mid-twenties, I realize the importance of breaking the cycle and not only living for tomorrow, but living for the delicious ambiguity of today. I am grown up. I don’t know what I want to be while I’m here, but I do know that right now I’m fine. I’m fine and I’m happy and I’m content and I’m satisfied not knowing what I don’t know. I can’t predict what tomorrow will bring me and where all the rest of my “grown up” years will carry me. I can tell you that this moment today, isn’t so bad. I don’t want to live in these moments not realizing I’m living them because I’m still trying to conquer my childhood tomorrows. This is what I want to be when I grow up. It’s me…an older version of my childhood soul, and one day at a time, living for the moment.

My lovely husband, Jason, and I have two adorable little cats. Well, adorable until I’m trying to sleep in in the morning. Sweet little Jinxie (or Nugget as we call her) is a cute as can be Manx mix. She’s a little cat, who is overweight and has no tail, but adorable non-the-less. Everytime The Nugget goes to jump onto anything, the bed onto the window, the floor onto the couch, the bed back to the floor she makes a little squeak. Oh no…she can’t jump silently like most cats, she has to make sure you can hear her moving from platform to platform. Hence, sleeping in disturbance #1…The Nugget squeaking her way around the house. Onto the other adorable little house cat. His name is Camo and I adopted him when he was a year and half old. He is a little beige kitty with a loving little face and an appetite for attention. In the middle of the night, if I forget to add more food and water to their bowls before I go to sleep, Camo makes sure to let me know. He does it in the cutest way he can think of, by pacing around my head on my pillow and purring as loudly as possible. If that doesn’t awaken me, then I will soon be woken up to lovely cat licks on my face. This morning Camo decided it was time for me to get up. I knew I had fed them and gave them water on purpose so they wouldn’t wake me up this morning, but still, Camo was awake as can be and ready to get out of bed. Since he was ready, I needed to get up immediately and give him my undying attention. Finally, I gave in to my bladder and the purring and got out of bed. The Fuzzy Futtz win again.

I realize I’m only in my mid-twenties, but I take pride in my inner old lady. If I had the choice to go out to a bar and drink the night away or stay home and Photoshop a digital scrapbook page, crochet my newest gift to give away, cross stitch a wall hanging, or make a baby quilt…I would choose the latter. Here are a few of my latest crafty concoctions.These pages are the beginning of my pages I’m making for our Honeymoon Album. We took our honeymoon in Nelson, BC and these were both from hiking down Elephant Mountain.

I don’t have many vices. I don’t drink often, I don’t smoke anything, I don’t do illegal drugs of any sort, but I do have one naughty little habit. Every morning I barely roll out of bed, prepare myself for another day at the office, get in my car and drive to work. As I walk from the parking lot to the building I work in, I can hardly handle the anticipation as it builds inside of me. I exit the elevator on the 7th floor and enter the door. I anxiously meander into the back room, where I know I’m getting closer to my morning fix. After I make the pot, stir in the creamer, and add two entire spoonfuls of sugar I know my craving will soon be fed. That first sip every morning of delicious coffee is like my own little piece of heaven. Every morning I know it will make me sick, due to my weak stomach, but every morning I embark on my delicious sin, savoring each and every drop. Coffee is fundamentally necessary to my overall well-being.

When you post your first blog on a site, what exactly does one say? Is this the part where I introduce myself to to the masses of the World Wide Web? Do I explain everything there is to know about me in a cliche posting online? I could do that…but instead, this is what you get. An empty post learning little to nothing about me. But a picture is worth 1000 words. Take your best shot.