Call me old fashion but I’m a huge fan of the thank you note. And not an email or text, tho’ those have their time & place, but a good ol’ handwritten thank you note.
After high school graduation, while my friends got to slap address labels on pre-printed thank you’s, my mother made me painstakingly hand write each thank you note and address each envelope individually – no labels allowed.
In college, every time I got money or a package – out went a thank you note.
After my wedding – it took a month or two, but every one got a thank you note.
And after the babies – all three of them…
I used to laugh when I’d hear older women comment that “they didn’t even get a thank you” for the shower gift. I’m not that old, but I now appreciate a handwritten thank you.
There is a thank you etiquette that seems to have been lost on this next generation.
You take me out to dinner, you get a thank you. You fix me dinner, you get a thank you. You buy me a gift, you get a thank you. Unless I know you fairly well, you get a thank you for even inviting me over to your home for a cookout.
Mr. DDA grumbles when I send thank you notes with him to work for different things. He considers it “brown-nosing.” I consider it being polite. And if someone wants to call a thank you note brown nosing, they’re probably just jealous that they didn’t think about it first.
Dear new brides & grooms – a preprinted picture of you with “Thank you for your gift” does not a thank you card make.
We “old souls” want to see a real effort. Not just your picture or signature. A card that says “Thank you for xyz. We are going to use to help us purchase our washer & dryer. Please pray for us as we start our lives together. Thanks again.”
Four sentences. With ink. On paper.
It’s time consuming, yes. It’s a nuisance, yes. But trust me, people remember it. Long after you’ve forgotten the gift, people remember the thank you.
When we were poor broke newlyweds, I can’t tell you how many times we would agree to pick up pizza, pay for dinner, etc. with a promise that we’d get paid back and then never would.We’d end up with a $50 bill to a restaurant that we didn’t choose, that we didn’t like, with drinks we didn’t order…And living off a quarter of a tank of gas and no milk for the next week.
It became a huge hot button issue with us…well, me actually.I wouldn’t go out to eat with certain people because I knew I’d have to pay for all of it.And just to be clear, I happily would have, if I could have afforded it.
Last week, we went to a friend’s house for pizza.(Hi friend!)We had all agreed to split the cost of the pizza amongst the different families.
And guess what, Ms. OCD forgot to pay!
I totally forgot.Me – with her anal retentiveness about owing anyone a red cent!
So Saturday, I drove over there and put my money in her mailbox.
Some people call it crazy.
It was just $10.
But it was the point.
I detest asking for money.So unless you owe me more than $50, I’m probably not going to ask you for it.
And I assume the same about others.No one wants to say, “Ok – let’s pray and eat.Oh and don’t forget to give me your tab money.”
That isn’t fair.There are people out there who love to take advantage of others’ generosity.I’m terrified of being grouped into them.
And I’m talking about the habitual offenders.
The “I’ll getcha next time-ers.”
Last thing I wanted was for my friend to think, “Wow.We ordered all this pizza and paid for it and Sarah didn’t bother paying us.That’s the last time we’ll do that with her.”
So, if I owe you money and I’ve forgotten, 1) I apologize; 2) it’s probably from a long, long time ago; and 3) remind me and I’ll pay it.
Kid brothers need not apply…you owe me wayyyy more than I’ll ever owe you.
If you have never heard this song, you are either at least 5 years older or younger than me...
It was a monstrous hit for the Class of 1999.
And even though I wasn't part of that class, this song has stuck with me forever.
So today, I'm sharing it with the world. (Or at least the 60-200+ of you that read this blog...)
The Sunscreen Song
Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ’99
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be
it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by
scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable
than my own meandering
experience…I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh nevermind; you will not
understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded.
But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and
recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before
you and how fabulous you really looked….You’re not as fat as you
imagine.
Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as
effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing
bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that
never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm
on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing everyday that scares you
Sing
Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, don’t put up with
people who are reckless with yours.
Floss
Don’t waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes
you’re behind…the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with
yourself.
Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you
succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch
Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your
life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they
wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year
olds I know still don’t.
Get plenty of calcium.
Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone.
Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll have children,maybe
you won’t, maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky
chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary…what ever you do, don’t
congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either – your
choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s.
Enjoy your body,
use it every way you can…don’t be afraid of it, or what other people
think of it, it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever
own..
Dance…even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.
Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.
Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents, you never know when they’ll be gone for
good.
Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the
people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go,but for the precious few you
should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and
lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you
knew when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard; live
in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will
philander, you too will get old, and when you do you’ll fantasize
that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were
noble and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund,
maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one
might run out.
Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will
look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who
supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of
fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the
ugly parts and recycling it for more than
it’s worth.
(Ok - who are we kidding? Thanks to my previous blog about shoes, I have officially ran off the few men that read this blog.)
We are officially halfway.
Hannah has made it six weeks. Six lllllloooooonnnnnngggg weeks.
But she has been amazing. Honestly, I couldn't ask for a better patient.
Today was her cast change "surgery." (It's not technically surgery because they don't do any cutting on her, but it's in the OR under anesthesia...I'm not sure what else to call it.)
I was oh-so-thankful, because let's face it. 6 weeks in a cast that you are expected to never get wet (ahem! bathroom???)
She stunk!
Love her heart, she stunk.
She was going to get her first full body bath in 6 weeks. And an x-ray would be done of her hips to see how the progress was going.
Me and my lovely friend, Heather, took Hannah-Banana to the hospital ridiculously early this morning. (Mr. DDA was watching Thing 1 & Thing 2.)
(I think the hospital staff thought Heather & I were a couple. They asked me if I wanted my "partner" to come back with us. Lol!)
We got a mixed bag of results.
1) Positive - Hannah's skin in all the areas that we couldn't clean, was holding up nicely. 2) Negative - Hannah's skin in her groin area was not so great. But we can use medication on that. (Just to defend myself - it literally happened overnight because everything was great when she went to bed.) 3) Positive - Hips are still in their socket. (THIS IS HUGE! All of this would be for naught if they had slipped out.) And we'd have to start all over. 4) Negative - Hannah's hip joints are extremely shallow. We are probably facing more surgery in 2 or so years. (I'm not even wasting worrying effort on this. Too much good in my life to worry about something 2 years away.) 5) Positive - Hannah should be able to walk after her cast comes off. This would be amazing if true. Doctor firmly believes she won't need any physical therapy. Whoop! Whoop! 6) Negative - Hannah will require leg braces - but only at night so I'd say it was a neutral.
Over all, I really am happy with the news.
I can't ask for a better little girl. She has just been so brave through all of this.
Her daddy, Mr. DDA (lest the blue eyes give anyone any questions...), has been so helpful. I'm so proud to call him mine.
Our friends have been just beyond thoughtful. The texts, the balloons, the time... It's been hard trying to juggle who is keeping her what days. We've had so many people volunteer to help with her. I'm overwhelmed.
As I go to bed tonight, I know I've still got a lot going on outside this house that I'm trying to sort through, but I am going to sleep tonight with such a grateful heart.
For all that I have been blessed with.
For all that I have been given.
And for all of you.
Thank you all for your prayers and encouragement. I'll leave you with a picture of our happy camper in her special carseat. (Also, loaned from a friend - Thank you!)
Most of you know, that I, Sarah DDA, have taken up the sport of running.
I say that lightly because I know true "runners" and they don't consider what I do as "running."
But back in April, we got a treadmill and I started using it. And I got half decent at it.
Now, to appreciate this, you must understand that this girl didn't run...ever.
(I'm giving an emphatic pause here to let that sink it...)
Not in high school when I was a pretty good athlete.
Not my senior year when I weighed in at a whopping 98 pounds.
Not in college when I juggled a job, 20+ credit hours, playing softball and volleyball.
Never.
So when I worked up to 2 miles, I was downright proud of myself.
Then I blew out my knee.
♫ ♫ Da da dun. ♫♫ No fun.
Since then, I have had to start all over.
With a little motivation from my sister...
She even told me that for my 30th birthday she was going to pay my entrance fee into a 5k. I didn't even know how many miles was in a 5k.
I do now though.
(By the way, sis, not much of a birthday gift...grumble, grumble.)
But since I won't embarrass myself, I've started "training" for my marathon. (I know it's not actually a marathon...but 3.1 miles IS a marathon for me. )
I had originally asked for these for my birthday...
One year, my most amazing mother put up a small tree and we bought each other gifts from the Dollar Store. It was a Wednesday night and our house was on the same road as our church. Everyone who went to church that night saw our Christmas tree in the front window and thought we were crazy.
But all the kids at church thought it was awesome...and it was.
QVC had their Christmas in July this past weekend. And I hardly got to watch any of it. (Yes, we've talked about this before. I'm a closet QVC shopper. Rarely buy anything but makeup & skincare, but I may or may not know all the hosts names by heart...and even follow some of them on Facebook.)
I did manage to squeeze in the Christmas in July edition of In the Kitchen with David. Wasn't much different than the regular ITKWD, but it did get me wondering and fretting.
Christmas is 5 months away. 5 stinking months away.
Normally at this time, my Christmas account is fully funded.
Um...not this year. Thanks to Murphy setting up camp in our house since January...our savings account is officially at $0. ZERO!!!
Every year, they come out with a survery that says how much each family will spend on Christmas. It's usually around $800. I don't know about you, but I usually spend twice that much. By the time I do my extended family, supplies, pictures, tree (a live, 9 footer), plus Santa - yeah...it's crazy.
And it's not the money that makes it Christmas. I know that. Santa probably only spends about $100 on each kid. Compared to a lot of our friends, that's pretty paltry. (Not that I ever compare...)
I'm breaking out in cold sweats just thinking about it.
I'm considering asking Mr. DDA to work overtime again. (We nixed it after we became debt-free. We don't have much family time as it is. I wasn't giving anymore of it to drunken college students on game days.)
If we don't figure out something soon, I might end up getting a second job.
Preferably NOT at a shoe store...
I honestly don't know how we're going to do it. But since I will NOT put Christmas on a credit card, the money is going to have to come from somewhere.
So if you're like me, and you realize that Christmas is only 5 months away and you have $0 saved for it...
Expect an update from me on every 25th of the month from here on. We'll do this together. One dollar at a time.
The other day someone asked me if I had written anything good on my blog lately…
No I haven’t…
I can’t seem to make a single, coherent thought lately.Of course, it could be because Duffy is whining in my ear, which means that all things must cease until I finish my best soulful rendition of Warwick Avenue.
And then I think about the British...and then their shoes...and I lose all sense of decorum.
Back to the present.
My head is reeling.
(Like that?I’ve been reading a lot lately and that’s a favorite phrase of the author.)
It’s kinda like The Hunger Games – just without the Hunger Games. But if you enjoyed THG, you’d enjoy Divergent.And although I loved Katniss, I couldn’t relate to her.I couldn’t shoot a bow & arrow if my life depended on it.If I was left in the wilderness for days, I maybe could survive a week without eating something poisonous.
But in Divergent, I found me - the girl who couldn’t be pigeon-holed into one type of virtue.Candor (the honest), Abnegation (the selfless), Dauntless (the brave), Amity (the peaceful), and Erudite (the intelligent).
I’m part Erudite - I’m pretty good at sniffing out the ending of things.Movies, books, surprise parties.I think the only time in my life I’ve been shocked was when I got engaged.(The first time; not the second time.Wait.You guys didn’t know I was engaged twice?Yep.Long story.Both were to Mr. DDA though.I’ll share more on another day.)
Sometimes, I wonder if my brain turns off when I sleep.I’m always figuring something or someone out.Maybe that’s why I always wake up tired.
If I hadn’t detested police work so much, I probably would have made a decent investigator.But I would’ve had to go to the Feds…I couldn’t stand the politics of a small town department.(What chain of command???)My husband has the patience of a saint.I would’ve been fired…oh, about day 3.Plus, the hats are hideous.
I’m part Dauntless - My tax law professor begged me to go to law school.The fact that I can usually tell when someone is lying (just call me Emma) coupled with the fact that I’ll argue with a camel if I know I’m right.(I’ve argued with other farm animals and Democrats.AHEM.)
Come to think of it, I'm not sure I should be proud of this trait.
I’m part Candor – I can be brutally honest. I try be thoughtful and considerate, but I usually speak before I think. But I'm working on it.
I’m a tiny little bit Amity – meaning if you catch me on a good day, in the morning, I’ll apologize for crimes I didn’t even know I’d committed...just try to keep the peace.I kinda even see some Abnegation in that.
(But actually, the author got that one wrong.It’s called Southern.)
So, the next time someone calls me difficult.I’m going to respond, “I’m not difficult.I’m divergent.”
