WWYD – Travel Edition

So y’all know LG and I are going to Spain this summer right? Right! You know we’re excited, right? Right!

Here’s the deal:  this is a family trip. In addition to LG & I, my parents, one brother and SIL, my niece, my nephew, and some extended family are making the journey. The plan is for us to all arrive and depart on the same dates. However….ticket prices have increased more than we originally thought when we decided to go on this trip.

So LG and I can:

A. Stick to the original plan, arrive and depart on the same date as the rest of the crew, pay around $1500 per ticket.

or

B. Deviate from the plan, arrive two days earlier, pay around $1100 per ticket, book a hotel room for about $50 a night, and meet up with the family (and change hotels) when they arrive two days later.

What would YOU do? Would you stick with the pack – safety in numbers and all that jazz or would you seize the day and travel halfway around with the world with a…spirited 8 year old and limited Spanish skills?

What do you think I’m going to do?

 

 

 

WWYD?

Yesterday evening at around 6 I heard a meek little knock at the door followed by the ringing of the doorbell.  I went downstairs and I see the little girl (8 yo) from across the street.  Uh, LG is not coming out to play, so I open the door and prepare to tell her this.

“Hi, Ms. Nerd Girl. My dad wants to talk to you.”  Oh really….

So the dad comes across the street.  “Hey Mrs. Nerd Girl, how are you?”  “Good.  You?”  “Oh, I’m good.  Look, uh, the living situation at the house has changed.” “Okaaaay….” “Well, uh, my girlfriend, her daughter (8 yo), and our daughter (baby) don’t live there anymore.”  “I’m sorry to hear that.”  “Well, uh, yeah. So I was wondering if uh, D, could um, ride the bus with LG in the mornings.”  “Yes, that’s fine.”  “Well, see, uh, I have to leave for work at 6:30, so really I’m asking if she can come over at 6:30 and wait until the bus comes at 6:50?”

Hold up.  I think I’ve mentioned this before, but when we moved in 9 years ago we were the only black people on the block.  Still are – except for the occasional renter.  Okay, whatever.  Well at the time this dude’s parents lived in the house across the street.  When the dad saw who was moving in apparently he – who had never spoken to any of the neighbors before – ran around talking about “the blacks are coming, the blacks are coming.”  Thank you Paul Revere…anyhoo, all our other neighbors are cool.  Reserved, but friendly.  Those folks never spoke.  Until they noticed I was pregnant and then the wife would wave or speak, but dude would not.

Fast forward 6.5 years.  The mother and father move out and give their son, his girlfriend, his daughter, and her daughter the house.  The kids spoke.  The girlfriend spoke.  Dude?  Did not.  They went on and had a daughter together.  And Sunday?  She took her two and broke camp.

Which brings us to yesterday afternoon when he sent his kid over to ring the doorbell so he could ask me if I’d watch his kid for 20 minutes every morning so she can get on the bus safely.

Of course, I said yes.  It’s not her fault it took her daddy 108 months to decide to speak.  And then only when he needed something.

What would you have done?

 

So What Happened Was…

I picked LG up yesterday and once we got home I asked her to tell me what happened.

*They pull sticks for misbehavior.  Three sticks pulled in one day=a write up.  We’ve told LG that write ups warrant spankings*

LG pulled a stick that morning for talking.  I know, you’re shocked!

Later on the teacher told them to stop breaking the points off their pencils.  LG went up to the teacher and confessed that she’d broken her pencil point.  2nd stick pulled.

They now have bathroom monitors (their classmates).  The rule is no talking in the bathroom.  LG talked.

The teacher told LG to come out of the bathroom.  LG didn’t want to because she thought she was going to have to pull her third stick so she refused.  The teacher told her again to come out and LG was explaining (from inside the bathroom) that she didn’t want to come out but that she wasn’t playing in the sink like the teacher thought she was.

She came out the bathroom.  The third stick was pulled.  I was called.

So…I didn’t spank her.  I gave her a long lecture (Mrs Count – you would’ve been so happy!) about respect, facing the consequences of your behavior, etc., etc.  No TV, iPod, or DS for the week and she’s not going to Girl Scouts on Thursday. And if I ever get another phone call because she’s blatantly disrespected the teacher it is on.

We shall see!

WWYD

So…I’m sitting at work sharpening pencils (oh, it’s glamorous around here y’all) when the phone rings.  I recognize the number from LG’s school.  I answer and find myself talking to LG’s substitute teacher.

The substitute tells me that she told LG to stop playing in the sink and to come out of the bathroom.

LG told her “no, I don’t want to” and kept playing in the water.

Sub told her again.  LG replies “I already told you, I’m playing. I don’t want to come out.”

Sub tells her that she’s going to get the principal.  LG tells her “fine, I’ll come out but only because you’re threatening to tell on me.”

W.H.A.T?????????

I ask to speak to LG and she confirms the story.

What, dear reader, would you do if this was your child talking jazzy to a teacher?  I really, really wanna know!!!!

WWYD – Slap a Hoe Edition

Big ups to TIH for prompting today’s blog entry!

So.  Y’all remember I’m in a relatively new gig – I have an office and errythang!  A girl I used to work with in Hell left Hell and works in the same department that I do.  She’s young – 25 I think – and very, very playful.  Okay, whatever.

My mother calls me every morning on her way to work and we have our daily chat.  My coworker has somehow figured this out and now comes in my office – uninvited – and will hit the speaker button on the phone and just start talking to my mom.  I’ve asked her to stop, but obviously she thinks it’s cute and hasn’t.

Fast forward to yesterday.  I asked her to take a picture of me so that Jameil, TIH, Psonya, KRock, Barista, and my brother could leave me the hell alone I could have a profile picture on Twitter.  She obliges.  But she doesn’t give me my phone back.  Instead I see her tap, tap, tapping away.  I was like “what are you doing?”  “Nothing, giggle, giggle.”  I put on my best angry woman face and tell her to give me my phone.  She does.  After she’s sent Smoochy some sexy texts from “me.”  I didn’t even know the girl sent the texts until Smoochy called me and asked who was playing on my phone – my husband knows me well y’all.

I called her back into my office and told her not to do that any more, I didn’t appreciate it, yada yada yada.  She didn’t seem the least bit fazed but said “okay.”

Obviously I won’t ask her to take any more pictures of me using my phone.  I certainly won’t leave my phone unattended.  What else, if anything, should I do?  I’m the NKOTB, enjoy where I am and don’t want to rock the proverbial boat.  Everyone knows she’s playful and they just kind of dismiss her in a “Oh, that Vickie…” kind of way.

What y’all got for me on this one? And don’t tell me to hit her.  That’s not happening.  No matter how deeply rooted the desire may be!

 

 

 

WWYD? Money, Money, Money, Money!

Okay, so yesterday I posted about my not-so-great experience at the spa.  Don’t get me wrong, they were very nice, the atmosphere was relaxing and all that jazz, but their actual services.  Eh.

I didn’t tip.  Now before you send me back to finishing school, I had every intention of tipping – I just didn’t realize I couldn’t tip on my card – they only take cash or checks for tips.  I carry neither on a regular basis.  The lady at the desk said that it happens all the time and I could just bring the tip back.  Cool.  I thought I’d get by there on Saturday, but that didn’t happen.  So at some point this week I’ve got to roll back through there and leave tips for the ladies who worked on me.

My conundrum – how much should I tip?

I got a service menu before I left.  The manicure (good) was 35, the pedicure (felt great, jacked up my big toenails) was 55 and the massage (um, no…) was 65.

If you’d had an ‘eh’ experience how much would you tip each lady?