ME Monday...

and I even have something to share today.  I have had this pretty ceramic frame for years - and it has survived cats and two moves.  I used to keep our wedding picture in it, but I switched it out for this photo of Tim and the two baby raccoons he once rescued from the middle of the street.  Aren't the raccoons cute?  For more ME fun, check out Cherry Chick's blog.  See you next week!

Why do I love movies...

about odd and dysfunctional families?  Probably because I had one and didn't even know it until years later.  Anyhow, I watched a very funny movie this afternoon with that lovely gentleman Andy Garcia in it.  It's called City Island and is the story of an island native named Tony Rizzo who works as a corrections officer but dreams of becoming an actor (his Brando imitation is not to be missed).  One fateful day,  Tony realizes that a new inmate is his long lost son from an ill-fated love affair prior to his marriage - a relationship (and child) that he never told his wife, Joyce, about.  She also doesn't know that he's taking an acting class; Joyce thinks he's playing poker with his buddies.  At any rate, Tony has his son released into his custody to serve out his parole and takes him home to City Island.  I won't ruin the plot for you - because this independent film is well worth watching.  The younger son is a hoot - and the daughter, played by Garcia's real-life daughter, has her own set of problems.  I'm not a big fan of Juliana Margulies (she was always so intense on ER) but she's not bad as the wife.  If you're a fan of quirky films with interesting family dynamics, then City Island is for you.  

Aggie and I give it two bags of popcorn.

The bane of my existence...

and that of most every tax preparer in the country, I would imagine...  Earned Income Tax Credit.  It's a lovely thing and people who work hard and have children to claim more than deserve it.  But I wish the IRS would stop advertising it to every taxpayer on the planet!  They send out these slick marketing brochures - which I am sure are really aimed at getting people to file their taxes - telling them that they could be eligible for a $6500 credit.  Free money?  Oooh - yes!  I should get it, I am deserving - the mental wheels are turning as dollar signs appear...  But wait - what the IRS fails to include in this over-the-top marketing campaign are the guidelines for said tax credit.  You cannot imagine how many disappointed clients I have when I explain that they A) made too much money (or have no children to claim!) to eligible for earned income credit, 2) are over 65 and are too old for said credit and d) they have no earned income.  I think it would be a better idea for the IRS to save the money they spend on advertising the EITC and invest it in making the filing and refund process faster.  I mean, ten days for direct deposit isn't bad at all, considering the sheer volume of tax returns and refunds they process, but if they could speed it up just a little, maybe Congress would consider outlawing those wildly expensive Refund Anticipation Loans that are designed by big business to rip small taxpayers off.  But that's just me talking.  I'm not eligible for earned income credit, but I did win $5 on the lottery this week.  

Five bucks is five bucks.

Battle Hymn of the Tax Tiger...

This logo is from a business in California - I wonder if they're Chinese?
WARNING: Another politically incorrect post.

I've been reading all about the newest scourge of the liberal media: the Tiger Mother who dares to discipline her children and demand excellence.  How dare she!  I mean, what is she thinking - raising independent, responsible children in a society where it's not considered politically correct to take responsibility for one's own behavior and accept the consequences.  Of course, what do I know?  I'm reminded every so often why God, in His infinite wisdom, did not give me children.  I don't have any patience and I prefer children who are seen and not heard.  Gasp - I would have been a Tiger Mother of the WASP variety!  Just yesterday, a client came to see me and brought along her eighteen-month-old child.  Not a problem - until she let him take books off the hallway shelf, relieve them of their covers and proceed to tear at the pages.  The word NO never came out of her mouth and probably never even occurred to her - she tried instead, unsuccessfully, to reason with the child and finally got him to relinquish the books.  Another reminder of why I am childless - I have no qualms whatsoever about bruising a child's pysche, ego, self-esteem or butt.  Whenever my sister and I went anywhere at all with my parents, we sat still and did not speak until we were spoken to.  The more I thought about the whole issue of child-rearing, I realized that we were raised by Tiger Parents.  Anything less than straight As was met with varying degrees of disappointment and an admonition to do better.  If I had a nickel for every time I heard, "This isn't your best work."  We didn't do sleepovers, we participated in very few - if any- extracurricular activities, limited television time and yes, we had chores at home.  I learned to play a musical instrument and entertain myself.  I learned to read at any early age and I have to admit that all of these things made me a better student and, I hope, a more responsible person.  Not that I haven't made my fair share of bad choices and mistakes on my own - but I started out with a solid foundation.  Personally, I think Tiger Mother could make a killing giving parenting seminars.  I know more than a few parents I'd like to sign up!

Talk about junk mail...

Just kidding!  I got some Texas Trash in the mail today - thank you, Linda!  I can't wait to try it - as soon as I'm done with clients for the day.  I hadn't checked my mail for several days, between the rain and clients not leaving until late, so it was a nice surprise today.  Thanks for sharing - it comes highly recommended!

I also want to wish my dear friend, Carolyn, a wonderful birthday.  She is eternally young and personally responsible for making me laugh about a gazillion times over the years.  Happy day, my friend!

And I should apologize for all of these catch-up posts appearing in one day.  I start to write every day and then I save the draft when I get interrupted.  Well, then I get sidetracked and I forget to upload them at all!

Lunch at my desk...

is pretty simple today - a can of beans and some extra-strength pain reliever.  I am very thankful for my early tax season rush, but I do need to go to the grocery store and get a few things.  I'm down to one more can of beans on the pantry shelf - and I might - gasp! - have to cook something for lunch.

Heaven forbid!

Don't shoot me...

I'm only the piano player...  I am thoroughly enjoying my ME page-a-day calendar and this illustration took me back to my childhood and my $22.50 piano.  Right down to the howling little dog, although mine was a black poodle.  When I was about ten and attending the First Baptist Church in Zephyrhills with my family, I was enthralled with the old upright pianos in all of the Sunday School rooms.  They were fair game on Wednesday nights after prayer meeting while the adults visited and I made the most of my unsupervised time with what I considered to be the grandest of all musical instruments.  I could barely read music, but I managed to pick out a fair number of tunes from the old hymnal.  One fateful evening, the choir director asked my father if I was taking piano lessons.  No, my father replied, we don't have a piano.  The choir director informed him that the church was planning to sell the old pianos to raise money for the new sanctuary and that my dad ought to consider taking advantage of getting a good deal on a piano for me.  How much, my father asked, dreading some astronomical figure.  "Oh, twenty five dollars," the choir director said.  "Think about it - I think your daughter has an ear for music."  My eaves-dropping ten-year-old self didn't hear that part - all I heard was twenty-five dollars!  It might as well have been twenty five hundred - I knew my mother was never going to go for that.  I had, however, underestimated my father and his ability to deal with my mother.  The next day over dinner, my father casually mentioned that the church was going to be selling some old pianos.  Her response was exactly what I expected: what do we need with a piano, we can't afford a piano, besides, we have no place to put it, blah blah blah.  My heart sunk.  My father was undeterred.  He told my mother that he thought the piano would be a good investment.  We can't afford piano lessons, she countered.  They went back and forth like that for a while until he finally announced that surely she couldn't say no to a piano for a mere $22.50.  Wait, I thought, wasn't it twenty-five dollars?  She wavered.  She said she'd think about it.  That was all Daddy needed to hear.  The following Saturday my father and his friend with a truck picked up my new (old) piano at the church and found a home for it in the utility room just off the kitchen.  And he had indeed only paid $22.50 for the piano; apparently they were willing to make him an even better deal and threw in a couple of old hymnals for good measure.  I can't tell you how excited I was that day or how much enjoyment I got out of that piano over the years.  I taught myself to read music and played anything and everything for the sheer joy of making my own music.  I would play and sing for hours on end all by myself in that little utility room.  Over the years, that piano occupied many out-of-the-way places and gave me many hours of pleasure.  Yes, my father threatened to throw away my Scott Joplin songbook if he heard Maple Leaf Rag one more time, but I would have to say that he enjoyed that piano as much as I did.  I miss that old piano, almost as much as I miss my father.

Thanks, Daddy, for $22.50 well spent.

ME Monday...

and I am racking my brain for something to share.  Maybe next week!  I went to Mary's website the other day to see what was new in ME land and this lovely illustration just made my day.  It's such a happy picture - doesn't it just make you want to smile?  For more ME fun, check out Cherry Chick.

Have a wonderful ME day!

Ittz all in Mom's hedd...

wen she gitz all uptite abowt eadin meet.  I node sumthin wuz goin on da othur day wen she came home frum da growshri store wif sum meet in da bag.  Wen I saw it wuz a stake I jumpped fur joy.  So she cookt it on that stoave thing and we had dinnur but she gayve mos of it to me.  I wud have et it raw and sayved her the trubble.  She tole her frend that its the smel that getz her and so she aynt byin no more meet cept slyct turkee.  Shez jest sorta crayzee about this meet thing an in a cupple ov munths sheel buy sum agin and I wil get to eet it.

Jes youz wate and see.

Is it just me or is there just something scary...

about women in leather?  I guess I should provide a little background here, huh?  I should also start by saying that this is a politically incorrect post, so if you're a bleeding heart liberal whack job with no sense of humor, stop reading right now.  That being said, I have a client who has a commercial cleaning business.  He's a nice guy with a good heart and he tries his best to help people.  He hires people from his church on a regular basis and some of them work out and others don't.  One of the ladies (and I use that term loosely) he hired earlier last year was the daughter of one of his most reliable employees.  Unfortunately, she was also a lazy, know-it-all Puerto Rican with a sense of entitlement and a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas.  She started out as an hourly employee but was dissatisfied with the pay and the hours.  She was promoted to crew supervisor with additional responsibilities and a higher salary but she didn't understand the concept of being paid a salary - and the fact that there was no overtime involved and that she needed to work somewhere in the vicinity of eighty hours every two weeks to get paid for the full eighty hours.  Needless to say, her attitude and childish behavior were poisonous to the rest of the employees and she was terminated, much to her mother's chagrin.  Not a moment too soon, I said, and don't let the door hit you on the way out, chica.  Things were going fairly smoothly until last month when the mother must've spent time with the daughter and remembered her roots and the you-owe-me attitude.  It was soon very clear where her daughter's attitude came from!  My client had loaned the lady money for her rent and the agreement was that she would pay it back a hundred dollars at a time out of her subsequent five paychecks.  Well, every time we did the payroll deduction she would moan and cry and he would give her back the money in cash.  Finally, my client got tired of the problems and complaints and general slothfulness and tried to discuss the situation with her.  She wasn't interested in anything he had to say and announced to him, "You don't need my services."  Truer words were never spoken - and they sounded suspiciously like, "I quit."  And so my client gleefully took her at her word and told me to prepare her final check, deducting the balance of the loan she owed him.  Not wanting to see her or deal with her again, he told her that she would have to see me to sign her termination paperwork and get her last check and that I would explain everything to her.  He asked me if I minded handling that for him and I said, perhaps a little too soon, "No problem.  She doesn't scare me."  Ay, chihuahua!  When the employee came to see me for her check, she brought the altogether too tough daughter along and they were both clad head-to-toe in black leather - jackets, pants, biker boots - the works.  While I patiently tried to explain the last paycheck and termination situation to the mother, the daughter stood menacingly over her shoulder muttering obscenities about my client.  The mother kept telling me she needed a paper for unemployment stating that she was fired so she could collect unemployment.  I pointed out that she had quit and was therefore ineligible for unemployment.  I half expected the daughter to go for my throat at that point.  They both vehemently denied that she had quit and that my client had fired her, telling her that her services were no longer required.  That's a hot one, I thought to myself, he's as scared of both of you as I am right now.  Then they wanted to argue about the amount of the check, telling me that she had repaid the loan.  At that point, cowering behind the desk, I called my client who told me to pay her whatever she wanted and just get rid of her.  So I recalculated the payroll check and discovered that I had given the last of the signed checks back to him when I handed him the payroll checks the day before.  She'd have to hunt down (and I mean hunt him down because he was in serious avoidance mode at this point) my client and get him to sign her check.  Neither of these ladies were happy with having to see him for his signature, but it couldn't be helped.  When they finally left, I was more than ready for them to go - I'd been watching, afraid one of them might pull a knife or something.  I've heard that angry women in black leather with an axe to grind have been known to cut a bitch.

Gratitude journal...

One of the things I've been doing lately is writing in my gratitude journal.  Yes, every entry begins with I am thankful for and then whatever thing, however small or silly, I have to be thankful for that day.  Sometimes there's two or three things.  One day I was thankful for hot chocolate.  Another day is was Divine Comfort.  You get the picture.  Just the simple act of writing down the things I am grateful for has given me a new appreciation of life's small blessings.  I know I am guilty of spending way too much time worrying about the big picture and that gets in the way of enjoying the little things.  I intend to spend more of this new year appreciating the good things in my life and less time thinking about the things I can't change.

Remember this...

lovely hurricane candle that Tom & Al gave me for Christmas?  Well, I had filled the bottom with the cinnamon sticks and cherries but I was sort of scared to light the candle.  I would blame it on Peter, but he has really shown no interest in candles or flames.  Or I could say that I was afraid that the cinnamon sticks would catch fire.  But no, I'll admit the real reason was that I was afraid I'd fall asleep while the candle was burning and I'd torch the place.  So stealing an idea, er, taking a cue from my blogger friend Linda, I got one of these battery operated candles and now I don't have to worry about any of the above ridiculous reasons for not lighting the candle and enjoying my new centerpiece.  Isn't it just the prettiest thing?

I have this stumbling block...

and its name is Patience.  I have spent so many years trying to run my life on my own timetable, and being a complete control freak, that I have lost all perspective when it comes to practicing patience.  I've lost sight of the art of being still and waiting patiently for God to work in my life.  My inability to control everything manifests itself in worry - which has got to be the most counter-productive activity known to man.  I woke up this morning, after a fitful night's sleep, determined to just let my worries go.  What's one more day in the big scheme of things, I told myself.  I spent some time paging through my old Living Bible which I haven't really used since college and my discovery of the New International Version.  Seek and ye shall find.  The words I needed to read were all right there in front of me.  I just had to stop, breathe and be still.

Let Him have all your worries and cares, for He is always thinking about you and watching everything that concerns you.  I Peter 5:7

I am leaving you with a gift - peace of mind and heart!  And the peace I give isn't fragile like the peace the world gives.  So don't be troubled or afraid. 

John 14:27

Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything; tell God your needs, and don't forget to thank Him for His answers.  If you do this, you will experience God's peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand.  His peace will keep your thoughts and your hearts quiet and at rest as you trust in Christ.  Phillippians 4:6-7

Fear Not, for I am with you.  Do not be dismayed.  I am your God.  I will strengthen you; I will help you; I will uphold you with My victorious right Hand.  Isaiah 41:10

And we know that all that happens to us is working for our good if we love God and are fitting into His plans.  Romans 8:28

I know all these things.  I have known them in my heart since I was a little girl.  But sometimes I try to move one seat over and try to do things my way and go off in the direction I want to go.  When I read these words this morning, for probably the thousandth time, I felt the same familiar comfort they always bring.  I need to stay in that comfort zone - and stop trying to create my own.

A worthy goal - but a daily struggle.

Feeling a little defeated...

today. Not taxes - I mean, I live for tax season.  So does my bank account.  I should be jumping for joy that tax season is finally here!  Maybe it's just the winter blues, but I just feel like the heel of life has given me a good stomp today.  It was foggy this morning when I went to my mailbox and didn't find the check I was hoping for.  I should be thankful for the two that were there, even if they only amounted to $44 together.  It would appear that my clients are back to thinking that bookkeeping is my hobby and that prompt payment is optional.  Oy.  After I made my meager bank deposit, I went to Publix for Diet Coke (on sale, buy two get one free!) and came back home.  Aggie and I had a sub for lunch - who can go to Publix and not get a sub?  I can't pass up the Boar's Head sliced dill pickles.  Even that didn't do much to cheer me up, so I went about my business and printed W2s for my payroll clients and returned some phone calls.  About three o'clock I finally gave up and sat on the sofa with Aggie and Peter.  There's something comforting about a purring cat in your lap, don't you think?

ME Monday...

Is it too early for Valentine's Day?  I just finished putting away the Santas and my hall shelf looked bare, so I got out my ME valentine tins and Hoppy VanderHare, the Messenger of Love!  Muffy would not be left behind, so she is guarding the candle warmer from marauding felines.  Makes me want to make some Valentine cards!  For more ME fun, check out Cherry Chick!

I'm just not sure...

that I can like a serial killer.  Even if he does only kill bad guys.  I mean, it sounds like a good idea in theory, but the jury is still out on putting it into practice.  Maybe I've watched too many episodes of Law & Order over the years, but Jack McCoy or even Marshal Matt Dillon didn't just shoot the bad guy.  A friend of mine recommended this show to me - which in itself is surprising - and I tried to look at Dexter as just another TV show.  Well, that didn't work.  I know it isn't real, but I was completely grossed out by all of the blood.  And his lack of conscience.  Anyone who knows me knows I love a good murder mystery, but this goes way beyond the scope of any mystery I ever read.  I must have read too much Agatha Christie over the years - no blood, no gore, just a dead body and a detective who will eventually figure out whodunit.  I grew up watching Perry Mason and Columbo - even Murder, She Wrote was family friendly!  I watched the entire first season of Dexter, thinking maybe he'd grow on me, but it just didn't happen.  Perhaps I tried to experience Dexter Morgan too soon after the end of my all-too-brief  eight season love affair with Mr. Monk.  I don't know - but I do know that I won't be watching any more Dexter.  I'll leave him to the hardcore mystery fans.

Putting away...

the last of the Christmas decorations got off to a rocky start!  The basket was top-heavy and slipped out of my hands and sent everything crashing to the floor.  As you can see, there were a lot of casualties: my Spode Christmas teacup & saucer, my ME mitten candle holders and one of my Longaberger Christmas votive holders.  I managed to find the antler for my reindeer photo holder, so it wasn't a total loss.  As I swept up the mess, I reminded myself that it's just stuff.  Stuff I really liked, but stuff nonetheless.

I managed to cram almost everything neatly into the hall closet - thank goodness for the two extra shelves we installed when I moved in!  I am still looking for a small dresser for my rubber stamps - when I find one, these rolling carts will move to the bedroom closet for clothes and stuff and my vacuum cleaner will finally have a home in the hall closet.  One day soon, I hope.

See - Christmas fit nicely on the top and there was plenty of room on the next shelf for Autumn and Spring.  I  moved office supplies to the third shelf, along with gift wrap and my stash of paper bags.

This bunch of stamps may look nice and neat, and the bins are all labeled, but it's murder to get to them.

We even hung up Aggie's leash and my umbrella - things are looking up on getting this post-holiday mess in order!

The last long weekend...

for a while - I know, there's Presidents' Day - but tax season e-filing starts on Tuesday, so this is my last rest before a couple of really busy months.  Not that I am complaining - I am actually looking forward to the work.  I made some brownies this afternoon: one pan for John the maintenance guy who was nice enough to change my hall and bathroom light bulbs for me and bring me some touch-up paint and one pan for in case anyone stops by.  My hall light fixture had burned out several months ago but none of my friends could get the cover off to change the bulb!  The maintenance guy even had a hard time getting it apart - but it now has two new fluorescent bulbs in it, so I won't have to worry about that light for several years.  I had him put fluorescent bulbs in the bathroom, too.  Every little bit helps save on the electric bill!  I am happy to report that when they sold the apartment complex to the new company, they kept the maintenance guy who isn't afraid to get dirty and knows how to fix everything.  I hope Dapper Derek finds a job more suitable to his prissy, I-don't-want-to-muss-my-hair ways.  So what am I going to do for fun this weekend?  Well, besides eating a brownie (or two), I'm going to finish re-organizing the hall closet and get my tax season supplies ready.  Then I'm going to finish organizing the laundry closet and my craft fabric stash.  That should take me a while - but I'm going to try and cull out some more fabric to donate to Goodwill because I have more craft materials than one person could ever use in a lifetime.  Aggie will probably persuade me to take a nap (or two) and she has strongly hinted that I need to go to the grocery store and buy a) a bag of Newman's Own dog food, 2) some of those Good Life heart-shaped biscuits she likes and D) some sort of real meat.  She's not picky about what kind of meat - just some meat.  I think that Publix has Boar's Head roast beef on sale in the deli, so there may be a roast beef sandwich in our future.  I also expect that while the laundry cycles, spins and dries that I will be spending some quality time with my Kindle - so many free books, so little time!

Found one...

and I am a happy camper!  I haven't had an ME page-a-day calendar in several years and I've missed it - new Mary Engelbreit artwork and an inspirational - or sometimes pithy - quote every day.  Can life get any better?

Remember the crazy Russian...

tennis pro named Milos that couldn't actually play tennis from Seinfeld?  Well, he and his wife and their multitude of racket-making, racket-bearing children have moved into the building.  They drove up one dark night in a rickety racket-making blue van and made their presence known.  With a racket.  Sorry - I can't help myself.  And people wonder why it's hard to learn English - you make a racket with your racket - or without one.  Anyhow, just when I thought the noise had subsided - or I had at least gotten used to it - the problems with the van began.  With even more racket - early in the morning as the brood filed like ducklings behind their father both bearing and making - you guessed it - a racket on their way to early morning tennis practice at IMG Academies.  I mean, that's where they must be going.  Why else would tennis-playing Russians move to Bradenton, Florida?  Milos, despite the horrific racket emanating from the van's engine, would not be convinced that it was not at some point going to start and convey the racketeers to their morning lessons.  This went on for at least twenty minutes - and then the arguing began.  In Russian - Mrs. Milos was not pleased, or so I assumed.  After some deliberation, a taxi was summoned and off they went.  Upon their return in the late afternoon, Milos decided to take another run at the malfunctioning van - to no avail.  Well, other than the screeching of the ignition as he cranked it over and over again.  And again.  This apparently Eastern European method of car repair - or perhaps engine diagnosis - continued well into the evening.  This morning, after just a few attempts at starting the dead van, Milos finally - thank You, Lord - called for a tow truck and dispatched the vehicle to a mechanic.  Or a junkyard.  I'm not sure which.  Milos, clad in his navy blue I'm-a-tennis-dad sweatsuit/uniform, his trusty tennis racket on his shoulder trudged off behind the tow truck.  I'm like James Stewart in Rear Window - watching and reporting on the lives of my neighbors.

If there's a murder, you'll be the first to know.

Some interesting stuff...

and while I have no idea who this guy in the photo is, I do have a retired client who sends me some funny emails from time to time.  I thought I'd share some amazing information that I was completely unaware of until the other day.

Many years ago in Scotland , a new game was invented.  It was ruled 'Gentlemen Only...Ladies Forbidden' and thus, the word GOLF entered into the English language. They can have it, if you ask me. 

Men can read smaller print than women can; women can hear better.  Big deal - men don't listen anyway.

Coca-Cola was originally green.  Good to know.

It is impossible to lick your elbow. Or maybe not.

The State with the highest percentage of people who walk to work: Alaska .

The percentage of Africa that is wilderness: 28% (now get this...) - the percentage of North America that is wilderness: 38%.

The cost of raising a medium-size dog to the age of eleven: $ 16,400.  Now I know why I don't have a house full of dogs.

The average number of people airborne over the U.S. in any given hour: 61,000.  Count me out.

Intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair.

The first novel ever written on a typewriter: Tom Sawyer.

If a statue in the park of a person on a horse has both front legs in the air, the person died in battle. If the horse has one front leg in the air, the person died because of wounds received in battle. If the horse has all four legs on the ground, the person died of natural causes.

What do bulletproof vests, fire escapes, windshield wipers and laser printers have in common? All were invented by women.

What is the only food that doesn't spoil? Honey.

I feel more intelligent now that I know all of those things.  So go ahead, try and lick your elbow.  You know you want to.

ME Monday...

and a new cookbook!  Two good things in one day - Mary Engelbreit and a wealth of slow cooker recipes.  I can't wait to get out my ME crockpot and put dinner on to cook.  I've always liked ME cookbooks because the recipes are from real people and they actually turn out to be edible - unlike other cookbooks I've owned over the years.  I think I'll try the black bean soup for tomorrow...  For more ME Monday, check out the fun over at Cherry Chick!