Sunday, June 28, 2009
Give My Regards to Target
Permanent Link |
When I visit the local Target I like to browse the dollar bins right inside the entrance. I have found many a treasure there. A $1 package of water balloons gave us an afternoon of fun the other day. There's $1 Spiderman place mat marking the CP's spot at our table. The bins are a reliable source of stickers, workbooks, and rubber bugs. The CP accompanied us on a Target run on Wednesday. I steered him to the dollar bins while Scarcadad checked out some electronics. He zeroed in on one item and made a beeline for it. A hat. A plastic top hat, covered all over in silvery glitter, with red and blue stripes. A Fourth of July party hat. It was in the highest row of bins but he stretched for all he was worth to reach one.
Well, there must have been some magic in that plastic hat he found. Cause when he placed it on his head he began to dance around. Like he was in the cast of "A Chorus Line". He did a very impressive side step-cross step routine down in the aisle in front of customer service, ending with a big hat-in-hand flourish. I clapped and told him he was a wonderful dancer, and it might have ended there. Except for the lady at customer service. She smiled and laughed. More than enough encouragement for an encore.
The child who would not that long go hide behind me rather than say hello to someone, took his show down the main front aisle in front of the cash registers. We steered him through checkout, where he doffed the hat and held it upside down in his outstretched hand. I think he was hoping people would throw money.
They didn't . But the whole show only cost us $1.
Posted by StarPermanent Link |
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
To (F)B, Or Not To (F)B
Well, that' is the question, isn't it. I have steadfastly resisted the call to join Facebook. Well, not totally resisted. When invited by Practigal to join up, I decided to forgo my reservation. To overlook my foreboding of either spending more time at the keyboard than I already do, or, feeling guilty that I am neglecting yet another online outlet. I tried to join, and it turned me down. Flat. There was a problem with my name. It was unacceptable. Really? I took it as a sign that I was not intended to have a wall.
It is getting tougher to ignore. Everyday I get another email from someone I haven't heard from in years. "The girl who snubbed you in High School invites you to join Facebook and view her photos." Who can resist that invitation. Everyone at work has friended everyone else, which seems a bit unnecessary since we see each other everyday. And they keep in touch with people who have transferred to other locations. Almost dailyI get messages from so&so that a co-worker found on Facebook. Invariably they say we should get together. Have a reunion. All this time I have only been a phone call or an email away. Not marooned on a desert island.
So I have stood firm in my refusal to join. But the other day I heard that a friend posted the 3D ultrasound of her soon to be born twins, and how neat it is. And when I asked Sarcasis if she had told her sister that her ultrasound shows the CP has a little sister, she replied that she had, and Sarcasmo Jr. posted a reply on her Facebook page. She told me I should join so I could see it. Yeah maybe.
I was actually afraid it would be awkward if I had a Facebook Page. Should you friend your kids? Is that invading their privacy? What if they don't friend you back? What does that mean? My girls have assured me there is nothing on their pages I cant see. So that excuse is gone.
I'm wavering.
If anyone knows a reason why Facebook and I should not be joined together in a state of social networking, speak now. Or forever hold you peace.
But I'm not changing my name! Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
It is getting tougher to ignore. Everyday I get another email from someone I haven't heard from in years. "The girl who snubbed you in High School invites you to join Facebook and view her photos." Who can resist that invitation. Everyone at work has friended everyone else, which seems a bit unnecessary since we see each other everyday. And they keep in touch with people who have transferred to other locations. Almost dailyI get messages from so&so that a co-worker found on Facebook. Invariably they say we should get together. Have a reunion. All this time I have only been a phone call or an email away. Not marooned on a desert island.
So I have stood firm in my refusal to join. But the other day I heard that a friend posted the 3D ultrasound of her soon to be born twins, and how neat it is. And when I asked Sarcasis if she had told her sister that her ultrasound shows the CP has a little sister, she replied that she had, and Sarcasmo Jr. posted a reply on her Facebook page. She told me I should join so I could see it. Yeah maybe.
I was actually afraid it would be awkward if I had a Facebook Page. Should you friend your kids? Is that invading their privacy? What if they don't friend you back? What does that mean? My girls have assured me there is nothing on their pages I cant see. So that excuse is gone.
I'm wavering.
If anyone knows a reason why Facebook and I should not be joined together in a state of social networking, speak now. Or forever hold you peace.
But I'm not changing my name! Posted by Star
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Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Rebel Rebel
Yesterday was Star's birthday. She would have been 36. We went to Rittenhouse Square to kiss the frog. We also went in search of the brick. The one which you may remember, that her co-workers dedicated to her. As we understood it, the brick was to be on a walkway, outside of the Ruth & Raymond Perelman Center of Advanced Medicine across from the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. I first mentioned the brick back in November, when her co-workers also generously remembered her by dedicating skylight, and commissioning a painting in her memory for a new hospice center. We visited the hospice, but due to winter weather , crazy work schedules and early sunsets had yet to locate the brick. This day, her birthday. seemed like the day to do it.
I was unable to locate the walkway online, but easily located the Perelman Center at 34th street and Civic Center Blvd. Also the location of the aforementioned U.of P. Hospital ,a sprawling major medical campus,and Childrens Hospital of Philadelphia. All of it a stone's throw from the Pa. Veteran's Hospital and University City. In other words, a traffic nightmare, and parking hell. We made more trips around the circle, looking for spot, than the Griswalds made around Piccadilly Circus. We were waved off from one garage by a city employee diverting cars from a construction site, and denied access to the Children's Hospital lot because we were honest about our destination. We finally located the Perelman Center parking garage entrance, cleverly hidden down a side street and camouflaged by scaffolding.
The car secured we took the elevator into the Perelman Center, and exited onto the street looking for the walkway.We looked at bricks up one street and down another, sidestepping a roped off area on the Convention street side of the building. None of them had Star's name, or anyone's name for that matter, on them. We asked a valet parking attendant, and he had no clue. We tried the information desk inside.
"We don't have that information" we were told. Apparently we were not the first people to come asking. Not that they had bothered to find out anything. The information desk seemed willing to remain uninformed. Sarcasdad and I had invested too much in the day to accept that. I showed them the email I had gotten from Star's supervisor, and I think the fact that she was affiliated with U. of P. convinced one of the attendants to make a call. She came up with a phone number, and she was done. Sarcasdad took it from there. That number led to another number, and then finally the answer. The walkway was, if you hadn't already guessed on Convention street, right where the roped off area was. We so informed the information desk.
Back outside we tried, we really did, to locate the brick without breaching the orange barrels, traffic cones and barrier tape. But the "walkway" was actually an area under an overhang and right next to the building. We were denied access past the curb. I looked up at the men working from cherry pickers over our heads. They looked to be doing windows. I figured at worst they could drop sponge on my head so I said to Sarcasdad, "Cover me, I'm going in". "Wait " he said, and pointed up the street. "If you're going to do it, go in up there". He was right. I had less of a chance of being seen from there. A man in hard walked by and we waited him out. As I was searching for the best entry point I heard the widow guy whistling at some one. I turned to see Sarcasdad , on the sidewalk, past the tape, searching the bricks for Star's.
No way was he getting arrested without me. That has to be on one of those memes floating around the internet , right? You know. Repost and highlight the ones you have done. One more in my have done column. It took us a couple of passes but we found it. The whole time I was waiting for a security guard to approach and demand we leave. Of course, I planned to throw myself at him pleading and sobbing until Sarcasdad found what we were looking for. I never got the chance, as the worst we encountered was the whistling window washer. But I like to think I could have carried it off. Unless the him was a her in which case Sarcasdad might have had to throw himself.
Anyway, it was quite the adventure. One Star would have gotten a kick out of.
Here's the brick.
I rotated it on Flickr, but for some reason it won't upload that way.
It was well worth all the effort I would say. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
I was unable to locate the walkway online, but easily located the Perelman Center at 34th street and Civic Center Blvd. Also the location of the aforementioned U.of P. Hospital ,a sprawling major medical campus,and Childrens Hospital of Philadelphia. All of it a stone's throw from the Pa. Veteran's Hospital and University City. In other words, a traffic nightmare, and parking hell. We made more trips around the circle, looking for spot, than the Griswalds made around Piccadilly Circus. We were waved off from one garage by a city employee diverting cars from a construction site, and denied access to the Children's Hospital lot because we were honest about our destination. We finally located the Perelman Center parking garage entrance, cleverly hidden down a side street and camouflaged by scaffolding.
The car secured we took the elevator into the Perelman Center, and exited onto the street looking for the walkway.We looked at bricks up one street and down another, sidestepping a roped off area on the Convention street side of the building. None of them had Star's name, or anyone's name for that matter, on them. We asked a valet parking attendant, and he had no clue. We tried the information desk inside.
"We don't have that information" we were told. Apparently we were not the first people to come asking. Not that they had bothered to find out anything. The information desk seemed willing to remain uninformed. Sarcasdad and I had invested too much in the day to accept that. I showed them the email I had gotten from Star's supervisor, and I think the fact that she was affiliated with U. of P. convinced one of the attendants to make a call. She came up with a phone number, and she was done. Sarcasdad took it from there. That number led to another number, and then finally the answer. The walkway was, if you hadn't already guessed on Convention street, right where the roped off area was. We so informed the information desk.
Back outside we tried, we really did, to locate the brick without breaching the orange barrels, traffic cones and barrier tape. But the "walkway" was actually an area under an overhang and right next to the building. We were denied access past the curb. I looked up at the men working from cherry pickers over our heads. They looked to be doing windows. I figured at worst they could drop sponge on my head so I said to Sarcasdad, "Cover me, I'm going in". "Wait " he said, and pointed up the street. "If you're going to do it, go in up there". He was right. I had less of a chance of being seen from there. A man in hard walked by and we waited him out. As I was searching for the best entry point I heard the widow guy whistling at some one. I turned to see Sarcasdad , on the sidewalk, past the tape, searching the bricks for Star's.
No way was he getting arrested without me. That has to be on one of those memes floating around the internet , right? You know. Repost and highlight the ones you have done. One more in my have done column. It took us a couple of passes but we found it. The whole time I was waiting for a security guard to approach and demand we leave. Of course, I planned to throw myself at him pleading and sobbing until Sarcasdad found what we were looking for. I never got the chance, as the worst we encountered was the whistling window washer. But I like to think I could have carried it off. Unless the him was a her in which case Sarcasdad might have had to throw himself.
Anyway, it was quite the adventure. One Star would have gotten a kick out of.
Here's the brick.
I rotated it on Flickr, but for some reason it won't upload that way.
It was well worth all the effort I would say. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Its Enough to Make You Drink
Today I discovered that Twitter is a good tool for stress relief.
The day started out with a not all together unexpected disappointment. The installation of a new bow window, which we contracted for a month ago, was once again postponed. So I was already annoyed when I made my phone call to the Pa. Liquor Control Board to inquire of the whereabouts of our bi-monthly wine selection. The ill-advisability of the timing seems obvious now.
I'll give you the basic facts of the situation and then tell you about the phone conversation.
Our kids gave us a very much appreciated anniversary gift in December. They enrolled us in the PLCB Wine Connection, which entitles us to 2 bottles of wine, selected for us by someone who has more knowledge of wine than we do. It is illegal to ship wine to a private home in Pa., due to the antiquated laws, closely monitored and lobbied for by the patronage laden aforementioned PLCB. And, also by the AFL-CIO, which I am by accident of employment, a dues paying member. Therefore the selection is shipped to a local state store for us to pick up. The PLCB has been trying to appear more customer friendly to try and stem the tide of busy Keystone Staters trying to abolish the "state store" system " so they could buy wine at the grocery store like the rest of the free world. Instead of "state store" they would like their retail outlets to be called Wine and Spirit shops. Our usual W&S shop wasn't on the list so the kids picked the nearest one. It's minutes away.
January was coming to a close when I remembered we had not received the promised phone call announcing that our first shipment was ready for pick-up. So I called them. And they had no idea what I was talking about. It took a week for them to figure it out, we got the wine,and it was good.
End of March, no phone call. Call the W&S store. They have no idea what I am talking about. Deja veaux all over again. We went to the W&S store where we make most of our wine purchases. The staff there has always been friendly and helpful. They tried to have the shipments redirected to them but were not successful. The manager promised to find out what she could, and , amazingly enough that very afternoon the store that gets the delivery called and said they had our wine. Co-incidence ? I think not.
Here we are, past the end of May. No call. I call. I swear to you that they said they didn't know what I was talking about. I wouldn't make that up because I wouldn't expect you to believe it. Yet, it is true. The store manager said she would call me back. She didn't. I called her. She said she had been really busy and she hadn't had time to call anyone but she sort of thought there was an email about the wine connection but she couldn't remember what it said. She would find it and call me back. For the record that was 23 hours ago. Still waiting.
So, this morning I went online and found a notice that the Wine Connection has been "temporarily suspended". I called customer service. I recounted all of the details.
The customer service representative acknowledged that the club had indeed been suspended, but she really did not know why as she is new to the position. It will start up again in the fall. She assured me that no one is billed until the wine is shipped so the kids aren't paying for nothing. (I'll be checking on that). I questioned why we weren't notified. Oh, but we were, I was told, it was in the newsletter. Each shipment comes with information about the wine, country of origin, recipes and PCLB news. Or did until it was temporarily suspended. "Didn't I read it?" she asked. "It was right on the front page of the April edition". It took several attempts but I finally got through to her that my club was for Jan.,Mar.,May, July, Sept., &Nov.. No April. "Well", she said, "there's a problem we hadn't considered". She also said that the poor customer service I had encountered, in her words, "makes my blood boil". that diatribe was delivered with the same amount of emotion one reserves for reading a grocery list aloud. And when I asked how I would know when the club started up again, she said,
"The W&S store will call you".
And thats when I tweeted. I let it all out in 140 characters or less. And it felt good. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
The day started out with a not all together unexpected disappointment. The installation of a new bow window, which we contracted for a month ago, was once again postponed. So I was already annoyed when I made my phone call to the Pa. Liquor Control Board to inquire of the whereabouts of our bi-monthly wine selection. The ill-advisability of the timing seems obvious now.
I'll give you the basic facts of the situation and then tell you about the phone conversation.
Our kids gave us a very much appreciated anniversary gift in December. They enrolled us in the PLCB Wine Connection, which entitles us to 2 bottles of wine, selected for us by someone who has more knowledge of wine than we do. It is illegal to ship wine to a private home in Pa., due to the antiquated laws, closely monitored and lobbied for by the patronage laden aforementioned PLCB. And, also by the AFL-CIO, which I am by accident of employment, a dues paying member. Therefore the selection is shipped to a local state store for us to pick up. The PLCB has been trying to appear more customer friendly to try and stem the tide of busy Keystone Staters trying to abolish the "state store" system " so they could buy wine at the grocery store like the rest of the free world. Instead of "state store" they would like their retail outlets to be called Wine and Spirit shops. Our usual W&S shop wasn't on the list so the kids picked the nearest one. It's minutes away.
January was coming to a close when I remembered we had not received the promised phone call announcing that our first shipment was ready for pick-up. So I called them. And they had no idea what I was talking about. It took a week for them to figure it out, we got the wine,and it was good.
End of March, no phone call. Call the W&S store. They have no idea what I am talking about. Deja veaux all over again. We went to the W&S store where we make most of our wine purchases. The staff there has always been friendly and helpful. They tried to have the shipments redirected to them but were not successful. The manager promised to find out what she could, and , amazingly enough that very afternoon the store that gets the delivery called and said they had our wine. Co-incidence ? I think not.
Here we are, past the end of May. No call. I call. I swear to you that they said they didn't know what I was talking about. I wouldn't make that up because I wouldn't expect you to believe it. Yet, it is true. The store manager said she would call me back. She didn't. I called her. She said she had been really busy and she hadn't had time to call anyone but she sort of thought there was an email about the wine connection but she couldn't remember what it said. She would find it and call me back. For the record that was 23 hours ago. Still waiting.
So, this morning I went online and found a notice that the Wine Connection has been "temporarily suspended". I called customer service. I recounted all of the details.
The customer service representative acknowledged that the club had indeed been suspended, but she really did not know why as she is new to the position. It will start up again in the fall. She assured me that no one is billed until the wine is shipped so the kids aren't paying for nothing. (I'll be checking on that). I questioned why we weren't notified. Oh, but we were, I was told, it was in the newsletter. Each shipment comes with information about the wine, country of origin, recipes and PCLB news. Or did until it was temporarily suspended. "Didn't I read it?" she asked. "It was right on the front page of the April edition". It took several attempts but I finally got through to her that my club was for Jan.,Mar.,May, July, Sept., &Nov.. No April. "Well", she said, "there's a problem we hadn't considered". She also said that the poor customer service I had encountered, in her words, "makes my blood boil". that diatribe was delivered with the same amount of emotion one reserves for reading a grocery list aloud. And when I asked how I would know when the club started up again, she said,
"The W&S store will call you".
And thats when I tweeted. I let it all out in 140 characters or less. And it felt good. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
Monday, May 25, 2009
Master of The Obvious
The CP is, as is mother dubs him, Master of the Obvious. There is no clarity like the reasoning of 4 year old mind. He was outside playing with a new found friend from down the street. They were having a day of water fun with a pool and a slide and water balloons. At one point the CP wrapped his towel around his arm and made a puppet mouth with his hand. "I am Cockroach Man" he declared. I have no idea why, but it made sense to him. I suggested he remember that little bit of shtick for his mother. She has a "thing" about cockroaches. Not particularly bugs, just cockroaches. Always has. So I knew she would be , shall we say, amused.
At dinner, I prompted him to tell his grandfather about Cockroach Man. Pop-Pop asked if he knew what a cockroach was. "Some kind of bird" said the CP. So we enlightened. "What does he eat?" the CP wanted to know. We told him bug food, but that wasn't specific enough. So we told him that if we drop food on the floor, and didn't clean it up, a bug could come and eat it.
When his Mom arrived I reminded him about his new super hero incarnation. "I am Cockroach Man' he proclaimed. Not in her house, his mother assured him. The CP had an argument ready. He told his mother that if you drop food on the floor, a cockroach will come and clean it up for you. He thinks it would make a good pet.
I hope she lets him come back. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
At dinner, I prompted him to tell his grandfather about Cockroach Man. Pop-Pop asked if he knew what a cockroach was. "Some kind of bird" said the CP. So we enlightened. "What does he eat?" the CP wanted to know. We told him bug food, but that wasn't specific enough. So we told him that if we drop food on the floor, and didn't clean it up, a bug could come and eat it.
When his Mom arrived I reminded him about his new super hero incarnation. "I am Cockroach Man' he proclaimed. Not in her house, his mother assured him. The CP had an argument ready. He told his mother that if you drop food on the floor, a cockroach will come and clean it up for you. He thinks it would make a good pet.
I hope she lets him come back. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
Saturday, May 09, 2009
By Any Other Name
So, obviously, the CP and I are far from the only pre-emptive spellers out there. It was somewhat therapeutic to find out that all of you have name recognition challenges as well. My favorite comment of all was Cheryl's "De Wolfe, as in Hungry Like DeWolfe". Whatever it takes, right? Yesterday I interviewed a young woman, a college sophomore who spells her first name Brighid. When I commented on the unusual spelling she told me that people usually tell her she spells it "wrong". I told her she spells it "incorrectly' and she laughed so I hired her on the spot.
A couple of name related stories popped into my head, so I thought I would share them with you.
-------------------------------
Quite a few yeas back I was at the hairdresser. It was the week leading into Christmas and the salon was crowded with women getting their holiday do's. I was sitting and waiting along with two other women, when one of the salon employees stopped in her tracks, put her hand on her chest and said "Oh my God". Naturally , the three of us looked up from our complimentary salon copies of Cosmo. The employee pointed to each of us in turn. "Noel, Holly and Star" she said. "What are the odds?"" Indeed.
-------------------------------
Not as many years ago, but still a few years. a member of my office staff went and got herself engaged to a young man who's family regularly graced the society page of our local paper. We were invited to the engagement party, held in an area we refer to as "the Main Line". Think "Philadelphia Story" and you'll have the general idea. Sarcasdad and I pulled up to the circular driveway, in our Hyundai, and were welcomed by the local constabulary, who were, as you would of course expect, parking cars. I think they parked ours back in Philadelphia so it didn't have to sit amongst the Jaguars and BMW's . The party was set up on "the grounds". I remember the menu being comprised of hor'devours and not many of them. However, the booze flowed freely. After a bit, my co-workers and I needed the restroom. We actually thought this would be our chance to get inside the house. Silly us. When we got to the front door we discovered that there were 2 bathrooms, 2, just inside the entryway. One on each side. Outside each bathroom door there was stationed a "maid". These maids looked like linebackers and they did not admit to speaking English. They were however clear on one point. No one got past the foyer, through the french doors which if they were open would have given access to the fountain. Yes, an actual working water spouting fountain, in-the-house. In our state of blissful inebriation we thought we could bluff our way through, Again,silly us. However, while we were thusly engaged we spied two of the bride's sisters tip-toeing past the fountain on the other side of the doors. They held their shoes in one hand and used their other hand to form the international sign of SHHHH while imploring us with their eyes to not let the "maids" turn around and see them. We happily made idiots out of ourselves until the bridesmaids were in the clear. Later they reported back to tell us they had made it all the way up to the second floor and that the rich people were slobs. I knew those weren't really maids by the door.
I bet you are wondering what this story has to do with names. The next day myself and another party guest were at work retelling the nights events to people who had no attended. My fellow tale teller was stuck on one theme. The groom's mother's name was "Angel". She kept harping on it, and asking me what kind of a name that was for a grown woman. I finally pointed out that I felt unable to comment as my name is Star. "Well yeah," she said. "But that's your name." Odd is obviously in the eye of the beholder
-------------------------
One more story.
A few years ago my daughter Star and I visited a local museum, the Rosenbach. I know it wasn't Star's first visit, as it was mine, but I think it was the first time she took the tour. As it happened on this particular day, when the tour stepped of we were the only two there. So we had the undivided attention of the docent. A lovely man. A very elderly man. He reminded me of the men who sell poppys for veteran's day. He led us into a room where photos of authors and presidents and other really cool people who had a part in the history of the museum were displayed. He began his presentation by introducing himself. Loudly. Loudly as if his hearing was not as sharp as it once was. I was immediately gripped with the fear that the next step was going to be for us to introduce ourselves. This was not going to go well. Two of us, with the same , unusual name, and a man who can't hear right to begin with. At worst we were going to confuse the poor man with two people who have the same name, which he was going to hear as Doris. At best, we were going to sound like an episode of "I've Got a Secret".
"My name is Star Foster"
"My name is Star Foster"
Luckily, he never asked and Star and I were treated to his delightful and informative presentation, followed by a self guided tour of the museum, which we greatly enjoyed. As soon as we were back outside, I turned to her and said:
"If that man had asked our names, and you went first, I was going to lie about mine."
She laughed and said. "If you went first I was going to lie about mine".
You know what they say, like mother, like daughter.
-----------------
And on that note I wish a Happy Mother's Day to all the moms. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
A couple of name related stories popped into my head, so I thought I would share them with you.
-------------------------------
Quite a few yeas back I was at the hairdresser. It was the week leading into Christmas and the salon was crowded with women getting their holiday do's. I was sitting and waiting along with two other women, when one of the salon employees stopped in her tracks, put her hand on her chest and said "Oh my God". Naturally , the three of us looked up from our complimentary salon copies of Cosmo. The employee pointed to each of us in turn. "Noel, Holly and Star" she said. "What are the odds?"" Indeed.
-------------------------------
Not as many years ago, but still a few years. a member of my office staff went and got herself engaged to a young man who's family regularly graced the society page of our local paper. We were invited to the engagement party, held in an area we refer to as "the Main Line". Think "Philadelphia Story" and you'll have the general idea. Sarcasdad and I pulled up to the circular driveway, in our Hyundai, and were welcomed by the local constabulary, who were, as you would of course expect, parking cars. I think they parked ours back in Philadelphia so it didn't have to sit amongst the Jaguars and BMW's . The party was set up on "the grounds". I remember the menu being comprised of hor'devours and not many of them. However, the booze flowed freely. After a bit, my co-workers and I needed the restroom. We actually thought this would be our chance to get inside the house. Silly us. When we got to the front door we discovered that there were 2 bathrooms, 2, just inside the entryway. One on each side. Outside each bathroom door there was stationed a "maid". These maids looked like linebackers and they did not admit to speaking English. They were however clear on one point. No one got past the foyer, through the french doors which if they were open would have given access to the fountain. Yes, an actual working water spouting fountain, in-the-house. In our state of blissful inebriation we thought we could bluff our way through, Again,silly us. However, while we were thusly engaged we spied two of the bride's sisters tip-toeing past the fountain on the other side of the doors. They held their shoes in one hand and used their other hand to form the international sign of SHHHH while imploring us with their eyes to not let the "maids" turn around and see them. We happily made idiots out of ourselves until the bridesmaids were in the clear. Later they reported back to tell us they had made it all the way up to the second floor and that the rich people were slobs. I knew those weren't really maids by the door.
I bet you are wondering what this story has to do with names. The next day myself and another party guest were at work retelling the nights events to people who had no attended. My fellow tale teller was stuck on one theme. The groom's mother's name was "Angel". She kept harping on it, and asking me what kind of a name that was for a grown woman. I finally pointed out that I felt unable to comment as my name is Star. "Well yeah," she said. "But that's your name." Odd is obviously in the eye of the beholder
-------------------------
One more story.
A few years ago my daughter Star and I visited a local museum, the Rosenbach. I know it wasn't Star's first visit, as it was mine, but I think it was the first time she took the tour. As it happened on this particular day, when the tour stepped of we were the only two there. So we had the undivided attention of the docent. A lovely man. A very elderly man. He reminded me of the men who sell poppys for veteran's day. He led us into a room where photos of authors and presidents and other really cool people who had a part in the history of the museum were displayed. He began his presentation by introducing himself. Loudly. Loudly as if his hearing was not as sharp as it once was. I was immediately gripped with the fear that the next step was going to be for us to introduce ourselves. This was not going to go well. Two of us, with the same , unusual name, and a man who can't hear right to begin with. At worst we were going to confuse the poor man with two people who have the same name, which he was going to hear as Doris. At best, we were going to sound like an episode of "I've Got a Secret".
"My name is Star Foster"
"My name is Star Foster"
Luckily, he never asked and Star and I were treated to his delightful and informative presentation, followed by a self guided tour of the museum, which we greatly enjoyed. As soon as we were back outside, I turned to her and said:
"If that man had asked our names, and you went first, I was going to lie about mine."
She laughed and said. "If you went first I was going to lie about mine".
You know what they say, like mother, like daughter.
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And on that note I wish a Happy Mother's Day to all the moms. Posted by Star
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Thursday, April 30, 2009
T.H.E.C.P.
The CP and I like to note when we have things in common. Like the fact that we both like vanilla icing. Or if we are both wearing blue shirts. Stuff like that. Just the other day I discovered something new that we have in common, although I haven't pointed it out to him yet.
A newly made friend asked the CP his name. He replied "The CP. -T.H.E.C.P." He said his name and then immediately spelled it. All in one breath. I thought he was showing off a little bit. The new playmate was female, and slightly older to boot,and the CP does like to impress the ladies. The next day I accompanied him to the birthday party of a preschool friend. It was held at one of those fun centers where the kids can play games and eat pizza and you don't have to clean up anything. Genius! The center also supplied a party co-ordinator. She peered down at the CP from over her clipboard. "Name ?" she queried. He replied. "The CP. -T.H.E.C.P". He wasn't showing off. He was just trying to forestall the inevitable. It is, a case of preemptive spelling. I know it well. I do it all the time.
The CP's name is really only four letters long. Four simple letters. Just like mine. Something else we have in common. To me it seems simple enough. But I have had many many people ask me to repeat it when they hear it,or ask how to pronounce it if they see it written. And , you don't hear it much on this side of the Atlantic. He's no Tom Dick or Harry. Or Jason , Justin or Jeremy. About a year ago we took the CP to a show. The people behind us had a small child with the same name. As they settled into their seats, they used the name a few times. "CP sit down, CP don't touch that" and the like. Our CP, not knowing anyone else with his name kept answering. Finally frustrated by being corrected and directed by perfect strangers, he asked them why they kept calling him, It turned out that while the names sound the same, the other parents were using an Anglecized spelling, while the CP's parents kept the orinial Welsh.
I spell my first name often. Especially over the phone. Otherwise, I risk being called Doris. Yes , Doris. how one gets Doris from Star, I never will know. I have to confess that I have once or twice just gone with Doris because it was just easier. Years ago I was at the dentist, having my teeth cleaned, and chatting, as much as one can, with the hygienest. The new receptionist came in and said that Star was on the phone and needed to change her appointment. The hygienist pointed out that I was right there. The receptionist thought perhaps it was another Star. The hygienist said she was sure I as the only patient named Star who came to that office. The receptionist went back to the phone. When she returned she said it was her mistake. It was Doris who had to change her appointment. Even in reverse my name gets misconstrued.
And so we spell T.H.E.C.P. & me (S.T.A.R)
I Posted by Star
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A newly made friend asked the CP his name. He replied "The CP. -T.H.E.C.P." He said his name and then immediately spelled it. All in one breath. I thought he was showing off a little bit. The new playmate was female, and slightly older to boot,and the CP does like to impress the ladies. The next day I accompanied him to the birthday party of a preschool friend. It was held at one of those fun centers where the kids can play games and eat pizza and you don't have to clean up anything. Genius! The center also supplied a party co-ordinator. She peered down at the CP from over her clipboard. "Name ?" she queried. He replied. "The CP. -T.H.E.C.P". He wasn't showing off. He was just trying to forestall the inevitable. It is, a case of preemptive spelling. I know it well. I do it all the time.
The CP's name is really only four letters long. Four simple letters. Just like mine. Something else we have in common. To me it seems simple enough. But I have had many many people ask me to repeat it when they hear it,or ask how to pronounce it if they see it written. And , you don't hear it much on this side of the Atlantic. He's no Tom Dick or Harry. Or Jason , Justin or Jeremy. About a year ago we took the CP to a show. The people behind us had a small child with the same name. As they settled into their seats, they used the name a few times. "CP sit down, CP don't touch that" and the like. Our CP, not knowing anyone else with his name kept answering. Finally frustrated by being corrected and directed by perfect strangers, he asked them why they kept calling him, It turned out that while the names sound the same, the other parents were using an Anglecized spelling, while the CP's parents kept the orinial Welsh.
I spell my first name often. Especially over the phone. Otherwise, I risk being called Doris. Yes , Doris. how one gets Doris from Star, I never will know. I have to confess that I have once or twice just gone with Doris because it was just easier. Years ago I was at the dentist, having my teeth cleaned, and chatting, as much as one can, with the hygienest. The new receptionist came in and said that Star was on the phone and needed to change her appointment. The hygienist pointed out that I was right there. The receptionist thought perhaps it was another Star. The hygienist said she was sure I as the only patient named Star who came to that office. The receptionist went back to the phone. When she returned she said it was her mistake. It was Doris who had to change her appointment. Even in reverse my name gets misconstrued.
And so we spell T.H.E.C.P. & me (S.T.A.R)
I Posted by Star
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