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Mar 04 2013

Facebook Break….

So, I took 4 days off Facebook. I have to say, I missed the interaction with friends I wouldn’t normally be able to interact with. BUT, I wasn’t back too long (like 45 seconds) before it was getting on my nerves again. If I created a “Holy Facebook” would some of you who do nothing but preach the Bible go over there? And perhaps a “Political Facebook” for those of you who like to argue to the point of futility? I digress.

This is what I did while I was gone. And these are some things I would have said, had I been on Facebook (in italics):

*I enjoyed some uninterrupted, silent stitching time. I made progress on my vintage winter crewel kit that reminds me of Keystone, CO, where we spent Christmas this year.

*I got a great new bench for my entryway and assembled what little there was to assemble MYSELF, thank you.

*I had the carpet cleaned. Guy didn’t do as great of a job as my regular guy so, screw you, Groupon. Wait, it looks like Groupon IS screwed.

*“Barnes & Noble sales fell this quarter. No one can blame me for that one.”

*Overheard at our house. Brooks: “Moooooom! Ryder ordered a fake squirrel head on the internet!”

*I ordered a swimsuit but the one I REALLY wanted was out of stock. Damn you, Garnet Hill shoppers.

*“Know what is more annoying than a reformed smoker? Someone who doesn’t do Facebook. That’s right. Chuck.”

*I watched “The Help” again with Chuck because he had not seen it. He liked it too. I love that movie.

*I locked myself out of the house so I went to Chuck’s office to get the key. By the time I got back, Ryder was home from school and had locked me out again by locking the deadbolt, which I don’t have a key to. Needless to say, I WOKE her.

*“Let there be peace on Earth. And let it begin with my kids getting their asses in bed and going to sleep.”

*I had a date night with Chuck at YaYa’s Eurobistro. I freaking love date nights with my husband. And he bought me shoes while we waited!

*“Would all the transvaginal mesh victims please come forward so the commercials will freaking end?”

*Commercial: “Do you or a loved one use an IUD for birth control?” What else would I use it for – a slingshot?

*Overheard at our house: “Chuck: You know….the parting of the Red Sea. Wyatt: Party at the Red Sea?” Yes, we go to the Christian school.

*Spent two and a half hours in a dental chair starting the process of getting two veneers replaced with crowns. Fun.

*“Donning my bullet proof vest to go to the mall and purchase a bra.”

*Cooked two great meals. Pioneer Woman’s pan-fried pork chops and Rigatoni Bake. Someday I’ll share the rigatoni recipe. It’s painfully easy and far from gourmet! Chuck gave the pork chops very high marks 🙂

*I ordered a new slipcovered loveseat for our tiny den. It hasn’t shipped but when it arrives I’ll be in heaven because I can watch Investigation Discovery while the rest of my family flips between the Razorbacks and something like Worst Cooks in America or Dual Survival. And before you start in on it being snow white, TALK TO THE HAND. My friend highly recommends it because it can be washed and bleached. So, no, I don’t think white is a bad choice. Hush.

See, YOU DIDN”T MISS MUCH.

Tagged life, social media, write

Feb 27 2013

5 Comments

write

I try….oh, God, I try….

Simply because this picture makes me very happy….

It’s a hard, freaking world to stay positive in. I don’t watch the news, I don’t watch debates, I generally attempt to avoid things in my life that cause undue stress from negativity. (Sarcasm, folks is not negativity. Or it’s at least a very acceptable, entertaining form of it, so don’t go there.) Just today, in fact, I walked out of a convenience store when the skinny, white clerk and the obese, white clerk got into a tiff over a drawer being short $41.00, while the nice, African-American manager was trying to diffuse the situation with humor and basically make the point that it’s no big deal. His attitude was that the problem would be found and we could all go our separate ways and not leave any ripped-out strands of hair, nose rings or torn flesh on the counter for me to accidentally pick up with my 2 giant King Size Kit Kat bars and Evian water. (Maybe I made that last part up, except for the candy bars & Evian, they were real.) I just don’t want to endure such as that. You want to know what I want to endure? THIS:

I want to wake up happy, which I usually do. Joyous, in fact, if Chuck is willing at 6 a.m. I want my kids to get up without my hounding and remember their lunches and homework as they exit the building. I don’t want them to call me from school unless they are sick. And by sick I mean near death to the point that they cannot pick themselves up off the floor and have gone to the nurse’s office. WTF with letting kids just call parents to come and get them? Did not happen in my day. Have some balls, school administrators. Unless truly ill, they’re yours from 8-3. Next, I do not want to have to call the effing attendance office because my daughter “needs” to check out early. Next year, I’m going to prank call them sometimes just for shits and grins. Because I’ll miss being talked down to like an I’m an idiot when my eldest goes off to college. Someone will have to fill in for her. The attendance office is great at that so I figure I’ll just pretend to have a kid there or randomly check out your children when I feel like it. And they will talk down to me and it will make me miss Ryder so much I’ll send her a care package.

I don’t want to wonder if people are mad at me because I send them specific questions and lunch invites via text and they just ignore them. No one is too busy to answer a text. Maybe you can’t answer immediately but eventually during the day we all have time to answer texts. Even if just to say, “Hey thanks, I’d love to, but I’m busy blowing a congressman.” I mean, if you go to the toilet AT ALL in the course of a day, you have time to answer texts. Not doing so is the height of rudeness. (Answering texts, that is. Not going to the toilet is your own business.) If I even take the time to text you, I consider you one of my closest friends, so be nice to me and don’t play games. SIDE NOTES: I cut people slack on texts that are just informative, funny or a statement of declaration. No need to answer, though it’s sometimes nice. Question texts are my topic here. It’s like ignoring someone standing next to you.

I also don’t want to have to spend an inordinate amount of time on homework with the kids. Actually I don’t want to spend any time on it at all because no one ever helped me with the little homework I ever had. I want them to come home and play and have fun and be kids and maybe study for their spelling words or a test but constructing some food item to look like alveoli or pancreatic juices is not a project for kids. It’s a project for kids and parents to do together. And I guarantee you they will never use anything that they learn in the process of doing that project again unless they leave the oven on and then Chuck will NEVER let them forget that you ALWAYS TURN OFF THE OVEN. I also don’t want “partner projects” where I have to organize a “study date” that I ordinarily wouldn’t have to organize, with a kid I barely know, who probably picks his nose , has lice, or hates my dog. What educational scholar started this craze? More on this in a later blog entry.

If I get on Facebook, I just want to make people smile or let them know that my meal is better than theirs 🙂 I don’t care what they think about politics (& no one is changing their mind on the issues near to their heart so why go there?), I don’t care who’s puking and who’s got all A’s. I just like to be entertained. I like to see vacation pictures and I love to see a goat singing along with Taylor Swift. But lately I just see bickering so freaking much. So I’m thinking Facebook might not be the place for me. At least not as often. I’m taking a full 5-day fast to see if I survive. After, I’ll get back on, hopefully not as much, and let you know. Blog entries are set to automatically link so it’s possible those will come through on FB anyway, even in my absence. Enjoy.

I want to come home after carpool to a rather peaceful home, where I can prepare dinner for a family who all eats the same thing and sits down with a dad who is home on time. I don’t want to go to yet another season of baseball practices where I’m faced with a whole new set of people who I have to hope judge me for who I am and not what people have said I am. I want to be able to agree on television shows to watch in the evenings, be able to sit and read or stitch quietly while the kids play and then everyone go to bed without having to be cajoled or pulled by a mule or threatened with a potato masher (hey, sometimes it’s all that’s near). I want my kids to brush their dang teeth, reapply deodorant, not get up 7 times, not decide they need another meal at 9 p.m. (which I will NOT cook), I want them to say a little prayer that their mom acquires patience & prescription refills and not have their friggin’ phone on speaker when they talk to their friends at 11 p.m.

I ask a lot, I know. I always have. Chuck says I expect a lot from people, and I do. Why? Because I give a lot in return, damn it. But when it comes down to it in the end, all I ask is that people be respectful and nice. And laugh. I’m a good friend. I’m just having a rather depressing time dealing with parenting and friendship lately and wanting things to be easier than I’m finding them to be. I don’t think I have ever been around more adults in my life who let little things come between friendship and love. I don’t ever mean to anger people on purpose. Bear with me on this and hopefully a short break and a vacation will have me in a better frame of mind soon. Until then, hug each other, love each other and remember why you were friends with people in the first place.

And stop friggin’ debating politics on social media.

Tagged life, social media, write

Jan 26 2013

1 Comment

write

What price, beauty?

Disclaimer: This will be a post without a photo. Why? Because I’m not a big self-portrait kinda gal. I never take those dressing room photos or bathroom mirror photos because I WILL forget and be shirtless or pantless OR Chuck will walk by in his skivvies, completely unnoticed until one of my children brings my blog up at the Christian school to show their teacher what kind of camera I recommend or how to make a Valentine wreath. So there.

ANYWAY. Since I tore my MCL (medial collateral ligament) in my left knee while snow skiing over Christmas, my days go much like this:

Get up.

Go out for breakfast.

Run a short errand.

Rest & stitch until carpool time.

Pick the boys up.

Rest & stitch until bedtime where I then continue to rest until it’s time for breakfast.

(Coincidentally, this is very, very close to how my days went PRE-injury but as the Bible says, “judge ye not others, lest ye be judged or called a judgmental asshole by Noelle” — Book of Matthew, verse 7, slightly paraphrased.)

I digress. Today, after a lovely breakfast with a girlfriend, I decided my short errand would be to get my eyebrows waxed. Now, my grandma always drilled into me that you get what you pay for. I knew better…. I have the absolute, most talented eyebrow waxer named Danielle, who is NOT expensive and who hand to GOD & placed on Barack’s grandma’s Bible, I will NEVER stray from again. But one day, when I got a pedicure, I noticed the lovely Asian people at the nail place also wax body parts as well. I looked like Tom Selleck at the time so I thought, “Why not?” A young, Asian man did my eyes and upper lip and I left very happy & slightly smug that the sixty-something man getting a pedicure (yes, you read that right) proclaimed “You didn’t even FLINCH!” I don’t get many opportunities to feel like a badass, so you know, cherish the moments as they come.

Today, I decided, rather than use my BRAIN and call Danielle, to just run in there and get a “quickie” wax job, so to speak. At first, I thought things were progressing nicely. Nice Wax Lady did both eyebrows & started on the lip. She seemed a little sloppy with the wax but hey, as long as my eyes are shut, no biggie, right? It did cross my mind that perhaps my upper lip covered more acreage in her opinion than it did in mine but it would be over soon. At one point a drop landed on my earlobe and another on my neck and she just ripped them off with fabric like it was part of the plan. Someone was repeatedly sending me texts during all of this and Nice Wax Lady would say, “You get phone?” And I would say, “No.” And she would say, “Yes.” This dialogue was repeated every single time the person who sent me 6 photos in a row, sent a text. I still have no idea what it meant but finally she just sticks my phone in my face and I say, “No answering phone,” because as we all know, when a foreign person begins talking to you, you have to respond to them as if you too suddenly have no grasp of the English language! C’mon, just ADMIT that you have answered, “Si, large chis dip!” when ordering at Senor Tequila. Do not lie to me. The waiter asks, “Rice & beans with that?” And you say, “Jes.” ADMIT IT.

After finishing my lip, she bends down & I know the inevitable is coming………. “Chin too? Hair on you chin?” I say, “Yes, I have a couple, you can get them too.” She says, “LOT of hair on chin!” I mean, for the love of God, perhaps I should just let them grow & guest star on Duck Dynasty! Damn! But of course I say, “Yes. Hair on chin.” I swear she took that little wax-covered stick and began slathering on the hot wax like Pollock painting a canvas and every time she would put the fabric on and rip it off she put it right up in my eyes and said, “See? See all that? LOTS of hair!” When she finishes the chin, I start to sit up & HOLY HELL, if at that moment she doesn’t stroke both sides of my face and say, “I get all this too or you be all uneven, you know!” She gestured to her own cheeks as though I might have two large tufts of hair protruding that would cause small children to run and hide. At this point, I honestly thought, “My God, what am I, THUMPER?” But, of course, I said, “Just take it all. Please. Make even.” I almost cried because I’m sure that my friend who is completely bald, has more hair on his head than I do at this moment and I’m wondering if Al Gore has to endure this torture when the little Asian people “take care of” him. She starts putting the wax on my face and the best way I can describe what she did next is to liken it to taking a piece of packing tape and jabbing it at a skirt to get the lint off. Only she’s doing it with wax strips on my face. OVER & OVER. You liberals bitched about waterboarding? Have I got some torture for you?!?! Once my face is as smooth as a baby’s ass, she reaches for a mirror and I seriously feared I would look into it and know how Quasimodo felt when forced to look at his deformed countenance. It wasn’t bad. I am hair-free. If you see me out, feel free to rub my cheeks. I think it might bring you some sort of good, Asian luck. Thank GOD, I crossed my legs, had on jeans and put my purse over my bikini area or I might still be there.

Also, Danielle, have no fear! Next time, I come see YOU!

Tagged humor, life, write

Jan 19 2013

“The End of Normal”

I don’t normally review books. I will likely catch some flack for liking this one. One of my friends likes to jokingly call me “Champion of the Rich” & although I might not go that far, I certainly do not understand the tendency in our society to dislike or even hate someone because they have been successful or born to a life of privilege & have access to more luxuries and resources than we do. There is no doubt that the infamous Bernie Madoff, former Chairman of NASDAQ, who defrauded many, many people of billions of dollars in his infamous Ponzi scheme, is the epitome of heartless. You will likely think that even more after reading this book. Throughout this book & since I finished it last night in a puddle of tears, I am fascinated by the psychology of such a person. I cannot reconcile the two personas that the author, Bernie’s former daughter-in-law, Stephanie Madoff Mack reveals: Bernie, the financier who took people’s money, security, college funds, retirement savings, etc. with seemingly no conscience whatsoever & Bernie, the grandfather who came by in the middle of the workday just so he could feed his newborn granddaughter a bottle. But this book is not about him. This book is about his son Mark, who took his own life on the 2nd anniversary of his father’s arrest and the life he shared with his wife, the author, Stephanie Madoff Mack.

I’m not a lover of the media & have long been of the opinion that half of the things that are reported are not only grossly inaccurate but are stories I don’t even need to know. I will confess that when the Madoff scandal broke in 2008, I made the erroneous assumption that his entire family had to be aware of what was going on. I had no idea that his sons actually turned him in to the authorities immediately after he confessed to them & that, although it was in the same building where their father’s investment company was based, they worked in another business that they grew to be successful on their own merit, not Bernie Madoff’s. They were, however, unfortunate enough to have their father’s last name. And it would haunt Mark for what ended up being his short life. The relentless pursuit of Madoff’s sons and grandchildren is a disgrace & Stephanie has been brave enough to expose that injustice. Heartbreaking, really. The final straw that drove her husband to hang himself from the beam in their NYC loft was that victims, led by a team of lawyers, filed suit against his four year-old daughter. I cannot begin to imagine the inner emotional turmoil that this man, who immediately severed relations with his father after his father confessed his crime, must have endured every day he lived.

I read some reviews of this book on Goodreads AFTER I had finished the book & people continue to be impossibly unfeeling and callous — downright cruel. Stephanie is called whiny, bitchy, “born with a silver spoon”, etc. The bottom line is, she WAS from a wealthy family and she then married into a wealthier family & the controversial “stolen” wealth of her father-in-law would destroy the marriage and family that she and Mark had worked so hard to build. Should she be given less sympathy because she has more financial resources at her disposal and multiple residences, purchased with her wealth, not her father-in-law’s? I think not. When she wakes up every day, she is still faced with two children whose father took his own life & the loss of the man that she considered her soulmate. This book was, for me, a fascinating study of relationships and human nature. It explores the complicated inner workings of families. It explores the odd reasoning that some victims go through in an effort to seek compensation and damages so that they feel justice has been served. It disturbs me that in our society, people seem to feel that if they cannot get blood from the turnip that wronged them, they are entitled to the blood of people connected to the turnip, who bear no responsibility for the “wrong” in the first place. The investors who pursued Mark and Stephanie’s wealth as compensation for what Mark’s dad did are no better than a victim who sues an uninsured, drunk driver to no avail and then decides to go after the family of the drunk.

Several reviewers on Goodreads felt the need to criticize Stephanie’s writing style, her grammar, & her use of the Madoff name. I don’t think she set out to write a literary classic. I think it was pretty necessary to include the Madoff name, considering that that is what the book is about. I read it in less than 2 days and couldn’t put it down. I think she wrote a beautiful memoir and tribute to her husband. I think she wanted to vindicate Mark because he had been tried in the court of public opinion and sentenced himself to death. The book changed my life for the better. I want to wake up every day and thank God that I have my husband here to father my children. I want to understand and dear Lord, I want the public to understand that having wealth does not make someone greedy, selfish & unworthy of our love & respect. Are there evil, greedy rich folks? Yes. There are evil, greedy middle class folks too. Is it ok to be privileged & enjoy that blessing? It certainly is. Pray for these people if you like but in most cases you have no reason to belittle or persecute them. I encourage you to read “The End of Normal” without passing judgment on this beautiful, brave woman. Please read it and take something away from it that makes you a better person.

And if you’d like to follow up on Stephanie Madoff Mack, you can read more here & here. I think she is a beautiful person, inside & out. Thank God she is there for her children.

Tagged books, write

Jan 14 2013

11 Comments

write

Thank God I Had My Pants On…

So…….I love social media. And now I’m pretty impressed with Hugh McDonald. I’ll admit I had read a little about him & he didn’t strike me as a guy who wouldn’t care about his customers. I had a feeling social media was our only hope, because as I have learned from my dad, there is a wall of sorts in most corporations that is comprised of people who are there to insulate the upper management from crazy people like myself. So I hatched a plan about 2 a.m. this morning & it worked. HOWEVER, I expected a phone call from Mr. McDonald or more likely, someone who works for him during the upcoming work week. I can’t really say I expected a personal visit, on the weekend, during an NFL play-off game. Wow….I am truly impressed.

We had settled in to watch the Patriots play. Chuck was waiting on me hand and foot & he had just commented that it was because he really needed to up his game the next few hours since he was competing with Tom Brady. (I mean I’m wearing “I love the Patriots” underwear, not “I love Chuck”.) Apollo started freaking out & Wyatt said, “There’s a strange guy walking up to our house in leather!” My first thought was “Holy cow, Ryder has finally fulfilled her dream of snagging a country star!” But, no. Chuck went to the door & honestly neither of us can remember exactly what happened except that a really tall guy in jeans and a leather jacket & Ray-Bans was standing there & he wasn’t selling the Democrat-Gazette. He said something like, “Is this the Buttry’s? I’m Hugh McDonald. Did you guys write the letter?” Chuck, jaw still on floor, said something like, “Uh, letter. SHE (pointing, of course) wrote the letter. I, uh, thought it might find it’s way to you…..but not so soon.” So he came inside, shook our hands and was very good-natured & grinning at me with a sideways glance. In that moment, I knew he was just fine with a fart joke or two. That was a big WHEW. Everyone was afraid he’d be angry but what man doesn’t enjoy some fart humor, really? I wasn’t too concerned. I mean I was very understanding in my letter and didn’t go off on him but I knew a normal letter just wouldn’t get the job done. (Plus, I’ve never written a normal letter.) I also confessed to Mr. McDonald that Chuck only found out about the letter a few hours prior & approved it, with a grin, but was going to claim he did not know me.

Back to Hugh, ….er Mr. McDonald. He had actually taken my advice and printed out all of our outages from the past few years and said, “You are right. This is unacceptable.” He was genuinely concerned. My feeling all along has been that the right people just did not know that the good folks of Waverly were suffering so. I mean with a different crew dispatched each time, some from other states, I felt like we were just lost in the shuffle. To get something done, you need to go higher than the bottom. We talked. He asked about my leg. He asked where we went skiing & I couldn’t remember. Seriously drew a blank for a few seconds. He asked if the Patriots were winning. He said had done a quick survey of the area, saw some issues and I’m convinced he’s going to look into our problems. Some have asked if I grilled him. Uh, NO, I did not. The man went above and beyond and he deserves a chance to make a change. Besides, I also learned from my dad that you catch more flies with sugar. And humor. I have his card. I can follow up. By the way, I gave him permission to bulldoze every tree within 50 feet of a power line. I hope my neighbors are ok with that because Hugh….er Mr. McDonald & I are a team now. Like Starsky & Hutch, Hart to Hart, Cagney & Lacey – WE GOT THIS 😉 I’ll profess my love for him on here, but I’ll try to keep it off my underwear.

Tagged Entergy, humor, power outages, social media, write

Jan 13 2013

1 Comment

write

An Open Letter to Hugh McDonald, CEO of Entergy Arkansas….or, to quote Al Pacino “I’m In The Daaahk Here!”

This is happening WAY too often.

UPDATE: At about 3:30 this afternoon, Hugh McDonald, President and CEO of Entergy Arkansas, knocked on our door. He was extremely nice, extremely impressive & I am writing an additional blog entry detailing our experience. My plan went pretty much exactly as I hoped.

Dear Mr. McDonald,

We’ve never met, but I’m willing to bet that we have a lot in common, the least of which is probably that we love for a lightbulb to come on when we get up in the morning and flip the switch. You like this because it pays your salary & I like it because I don’t like to wipe my ass in the dark. (You probably do too.) I, like most empathetic human beings, realize that this world we live in is not perfect. I realize that occasionally things are going to happen that inconvenience me and I try my best to think of people in worse circumstances. People whose children don’t have enough food, people who live where there is raw sewage in the street & anyone who is currently involved with one of the Kardashians. I GET that there are people suffering. HOWEVER, each month when we pay our electric bill, I expect to have electricity in my home. I have compassion for those in less fortunate circumstances but since I do pay for this service monthly & on time, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect to be able to make toast on a whim if I want to. Or watch tv. Or make snide comments on the internet:) Or see my hand in front of my face when I walk into my closet to suit up for a belly-dancing gig.

I’m writing this because all but four houses on the north side of Waverly Dr. were without power AGAIN today, January 12, 2013 between the hours of 7:00 a.m. and 6:13 p.m. It was not because an ice storm came though, not because a tornado struck, & not because an idiot drunk driver took out one of your poles. We were without power because leaning poles that were damaged in the ice storm were never fixed, fell completely over and started a fire. And quite honestly, they could have caused much more damage than they did. We, as a community of neighbors, are really at the end of our rope. We, as a street, feel like the forgotten stepchild of Entergy Arkansas. We are, Mr. McDonald, ready for someone to listen to us and hear our concerns as to why we are ALWAYS last on the list. We are equally ready to march downtown and knock that little red & white ball off your office roof to get SOMEONE’S attention. Never underestimate a group of pissed-off mothers. If it’s within the capabilities of your database at Entergy, I’d love for you to look up our street and see just how many times we’ve been without power in the last oh, ten years. And of those times, I would like you to see how many times we had our power restored DEAD LAST. If the resulting answer is NOT “Uh, oh. A hell of a lot! You DO have a point!” then I suggest you hire a new IT staff because your data is waaaay off.

We survived the ice storm of 2000. That was a rough one on Entergy & us both. I’ll give you that. It was hell. We ended up in a hotel with a norovirus outbreak and if, perhaps for writing a letter like this, I DO end up in hell, I guarantee you it will not be worse than that week of my life. (Picture Steve McQueen at the end of “The Great Escape”, should you need a visual.) We had intermittent outages before and after that. We were without power nearly a week when the tornado hit Cammack Village & we were without 6 days just this Christmas season and lived in a hotel. If a thunderstorm blows through we are almost always without power for at LEAST a few hours. I live in fear that one of my kids will simply fart & “POOF!” we’ll be at the Motel 6 before nightfall. I’ve gone to work with wet hair. I’ve thrown away, if you count all the outages, probably close to $1000 in food and meat, if not more. I have cleaned up the re-solidified drippings of Klondike bars and popsicles until last time I just gave the kids $5.00 to come lick up the mess, with bonus incentives if they finished before their tongues stuck to the freezer. I have had to leave my daughter’s birthday cake in a powerless oven and run out to buy one for her party. I then had to move that party to the park because we could not see each other in our home. Our power has gone off in the middle of the day, the middle of the night, upon waking, upon retiring and once at noon, as I was leaving for a lunch date. I really CANNOT COUNT the number of outages we have had but I know I have a street of neighbors willing to back me up on my claims.

The point of my letter is this: There has GOT to be a reason that we, on Waverly Dr., deal with so many outages. Something with the “Waverly power grid” (I made that up, I’ll admit) is grossly deficient and inefficient. Perhaps some trees need cut. Maybe we need to put some sort of access from the adjacent school property that makes getting to our lines easier. Maybe the linemen look at our property when they arrive and say, “We’re saving that mess for last. It’s Waverly again.” At any rate, NOTHING pro-active is being done to make these outages fewer & easier to deal with. Maybe, just maybe, for the length of our little street, the lines need buried. (And before you cite cost as a reason to avoid that remedy, you have to be paying out-of-state workers and weekend workers a fortune to constantly get us up and running again.) I will admit we used to have a few tree-huggers on our street that refused to allow trees to be trimmed and removed by the utility company. I am happy to report that they have moved and not only will we now allow that, we will fire up our Stihl’s & grab our machetes and pitch in to help make your access easier. Actually, if it helps my case, I’ll stay away from the chainsaws.

We are done. We are tired. In the summer, we are hot. In the winter, we are cold. We like to see things during our waking hours. I have a torn ligament in my leg & my husband will tell you that I’m just a bit testy when my electric blanket is no longer “electric” & I drop my bottle of hydrocodone in the dark. It’s not pretty. I am tired of people telling me I need a generator when I pay for electricity & I expect that it be there when I need to roast a turkey, fire up a hot dog in the microwave or charge my freaking phone. I run a photography business out of my home and my clients have a reasonable expectation of when their prints will be edited and delivered. Mr. McDonald, I do not know your family situation, but I can tell you that hell hath no fury like a teenage daughter that cannot dry her hair to go out on a Saturday night or a husband who cannot plug in his nose-hair trimmer. All of the aforementioned requires power & this is getting to be a real pain. Over & over.

Your linemen have been great and worked hard. I’m not complaining about them or the wonderful workers who come in from surrounding states to assist them. All we are asking is that someone with some power and influence in the vast entity that is Entergy agree to hear our concerns. We will come to you or you can come to us. We are a nice group of people but we have had enough. Won’t you please help us? Or ask someone to at least try?

Sincerely,

Noelle Buttry

Tagged Entergy, humor, power outage, social media, write

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What price, beauty?

“The End of Normal”