Murphy's Law Abiding Citizen

I was an early cell phone adopter. My first phone was talk only - no text, no internet, 75 minutes of airtime a month. I have had several phones since then. Not one of them has ever broken. My husband lost one several years ago, so I unselfishly gave him mine and bought a much cheaper, much less smart one. After that, he found his, naturally. So in December when I "bought" my free-with-contract latest-Android-OS smartphone, I didn't bother to get any sort of handset insurance on it. If you've ever seen any movie or read any book ever, you can see where this is going. This story isn't as much about the phone breaking, though, as the aftermath.
Our story begins on the morning of I Don't Know, Some Weekday. My alarm was ringing, and I wasn't ready to try to get to work on time yet so I hit snooze. As I dragged my sleepy hand back under the deliciously warm covers, I was unconsciously dragging my phone with it. My hand made it back; the phone did not. It fell between my nightstand and my bed, landing on the power strip there. I have dropped this phone before, on concrete even, and it was fine. Magically, this phone had managed to land on the edge of the power button for the power strip, cracking the screen, and rendering the phone completely useless. At first, the screen was just a jumble of jagged colors from the spiderweb crack. Then, it went entirely dark and never recovered.
We are advised to not speak ill of the dead, but there were days when I hated that phone. The battery could be fully charged when I woke up and without me even using it be dead by the time I left work. It was big and clunky too, but it was free and it did work, and a working phone is better than no phone at all. But there I was, with no phone at all. Luckily, I had the sense to wait until we got our first land line phone in 10 years to break my cell phone. Also luckily, a friend was willing to loan me a talk-and-text-only cell phone until I got a new one. Unluckily, I had no way of checking Facebook while waiting to pick up my daughter from school. Imagine! I went to the cell phone store and pled with them to allow me to renew my contract and buy a new phone for the lower price, but they would not budge. I threatened to cancel my contract and go elsewhere, they would not budge. The salesman suggested a cell phone repair store, a thought that had not occurred to me. So I went there optimistically, only to be told within 5 seconds of showing them the phone that the replacement part is $300 (excluding labor costs) and they don't even have it in stock. I could get a new phone on eBay for that price.
I did find a phone I wanted on eBay. I had decided that since the broken phone had been free, it wouldn't kill me to spend lots of money and just get the phone I want and won't mind still having for a couple of years until my contract is finally up and they're offering me free phones and hand jobs and unicorns to keep my business. eBay had the phone I wanted for a couple hundred dollars less than full retail. I was willing to pay the Buy It Now price just to get my hands on a shiny new phone. eBay then proceeded to flip me off with both hands as it denied not one, not two, but three credit cards I offered it. I got some error about the cards not being valid for payment. I think eBay just doesn't like money, because THREE separate credit cards?! On top of it, my husband tried to use his Bill Me Later account, and that refused to work either. Not that I did much business on eBay, but I guess I won't bother ever trying to again.
At that point, it had been a week since my phone broke. After cussing at eBay, I decided the easiest thing to do was to go back to the cell phone store and pay full retail for the phone. It was easy, after the half hour wait for a salesperson to become free to help me. Now, I have a shiny new smart phone that is not as clunky and doesn't need to be charged every 5 minutes. And handset insurance.

Aide and Abettor

My son likes board games; so much so that he often plays with them alone. Mostly he just plays with the game pieces like they're action figures, not caring to play the game as directed. Sometimes he asks me to play, and today, I ended up teaching him how to play Guess Who. He caught on quickly, winning his very first game. I had just a couple of characters left that could've been his. I'd asked earlier if his person was a girl, and he'd said yes. So I asked him if he was either Girl 1 or Girl 2, and he showed me that he'd actually drawn a male character. He giggled wildly and said, "I tricked you!"
I explained that answering dishonestly in this game is cheating. Honestly, though, I didn't know whether I should be disappointed that he cheated, or proud that he learned the rules quickly enough to know how to cheat on his first game. It was actually funny, because he's five and it was just a board game. When we played the second time, he didn't cheat; I won that round. He'd learned his lesson. Later, when he wanted some Count Chocula (known in our house as a "dessert cereal"), he came to me, wrapped his little arms around me, put his head on my shoulder, gave me the sweetest puppy dog eyes, longest pleeeeeeeeaaaaase, and a kiss on my cheek. My sweet little boy, cheating and bribing all in one day. They grow so fast.

Self-Helper

My baby turned 5 a couple of weeks ago. I don't know where the time went. I was pregnant forever, he was finally born, he took a couple of steps, and all of a sudden he's 5. He plays better, both with his sister and independently. He can get his own snacks. He can operate the TV. The bottom line is that he requires less of my attention now. I tried to savor his infancy, but now that it's gone I don't have any excuses for not investing more of my time into myself and the things I like to do. I don't have to sell myself short on 20 minute exercise sessions because he'll get bored and goodness knows what he'll get into. I don't have to take 2-minute showers because he might find and eat a food he's allergic to. I don't have to put off making jewelry until he's asleep because his tiny hands are trying to splash my beads everywhere. If he needs me, he can wait until I finish reading a chapter before I jump up to help. So I plan to invest in my well-being more. I'll work out for an hour when I can, maybe soak in a bath after. I can read with both eyes on the page instead of one on him. I can shut myself in my room to write. I can make jewelry in peace. Maybe I'll even find time to learn something new. I knew I couldn't keep him from growing up forever, so now it's time for me to start growing as well.

Homeowner

I miss blogging. I truly do. I also miss jewelry making, and reading, and karaoke, and other clever things smart women do. I've been putting in a lot of overtime at work, which leaves precious little time for hobbies like the above, or the even more frivolous, such as housecleaning. See, Husband and me are thinking about considering looking into maybe buying a house. I'm told these cost money. Not just here's-200 bucks-I'll-move-in-on-Friday money, but herds of money. If I want a house, I best set out to wrangle said monies.
We've already started looking at available homes, even though we're probably not actually moving for another 8 months. Hours into adding this criterion, and removing that criterion, Husband's question was a good one: "How did people look at houses before the Internet?" I'm reasonably convinced that they didn't. Houses were never bought nor sold prior to checkboxes that let you search within a specific school district.
Many years ago I actually bought two homes without Internet assistance, and I remember the experience much as I remember using a typewriter on my more important homework assignments: It is an experience now to reserve only if your electricity is out. For weeks. And your phone and laptop batteries have already died. And maybe the Internet got destroyed in a fire. Seriously, looking at homes online is one of my favorite things to do. If my Facebook notifications appeared on the real estate site I was searching I'd never leave my computer at all. I get angry when there are no interior photos of a listed home. Only photos of the front exterior and the view from the back deck? Disqualified! If there are interior shots, but the kitchen isn't one of them? Disqualified! The kitchen is my favorite part, because that's where I keep my coffee. I need to make sure it's worthy. These things are important if you want to sell me your house. Which you do. Want to. Sell me your house. Because I'll make a great homeowner, and because once you do I can stop working all this overtime.

Runner

Flint and I have been running. We're following the Couch to 5k program, which uses interval training to build up from 0k to 5k in about 2 months. So far we're sticking with it. We chat through the warm-up, wheeze "almost done!" encouragements through the rest. Some days are particularly challenging, like when I'm not feeling well or we're running on grass instead of concrete. Grass and hills make me whine "This is hard-uh!" like a four-year-old. Like my four-year-old, if we're getting specific.
I exercise every day, with little exception. I can handle some serious cardio training (Thank you, Jillian Michaels!) all in the comfort of my home, on my plush carpet. No hills, no ruts, no moving forward. Am I so out of shape that it kills me to run 90 seconds on grass? Have I so lost touch with my youth that all I know how to do are specified routines?
Actually, that last paragraph hits me with the much bigger question: How did I get to be a person who runs? Exercise is one thing, because you can consider Dance Dance Revolution exercise. I also love kickboxing. These things are fun. Running is the opposite of fun. When Kickboxing learns Running is coming to dinner, it seats Running next to Uncle Shuffleboard. And now here I am, a runner. I think I can call myself that because, while I may not be able to run even a continuous 10 minutes yet, I'm going at this pavement pounding in earnest. I have to make myself slow down. I have read articles on form. I take tips on shoes and stretching. I fuel and hydrate. And I don't hate it. In fact, I so much don't hate it that if I don't get to run, I feel anxious. I regret it every time. I know that I'm steadily improving, and I don't want any setbacks.
Don't worry, though; I will still be very much in the non-professional category of runner for any foreseeable future. The reason I know I can only get better is because I began at so low a level that typing the word "running" left me winded.

Labeler

At work - my real job that they pay me to do and is my actual profession - we've been tasked with adding creative labels to our email signatures. It's an optional team building exercise, and meant to be fun. For example, your label could be, "Jane Doe, League Bowler," "John Smith, Stamp Collector," or "Sauron, Dark Lord." But when it comes to labeling myself, I am undecided. "Describe yourself in three words" is not a test I can easily pass.
If you want to hire me, the words are "efficient," "dependable," and "resolute" (That's not a solicitation. I'm not for hire). If you were my friend, you might use the words "crazy," "talkative," "supportive." If you were not my friend, you might say "crazy," "talkative," "annoying." If you were my mom before I turned 18, you wouldn't say so much as yell "lazy," "argumentative," "goddammityouneverlistentomedon'tyoutalkbacktomegotoyourroomrightnowyounglady!"
While the email labels at work aren't meant to define you, but to give others a glimpse into the person you are outside of work, a part of me feels that I should give as complete a picture as I can. I want to expose the traits of mine that I like best. The worst and greatest piece of this is that the difficulty in choosing lies in the fact that I have many traits that I like. If that sounds like bragging, please understand that it took me a long time to become a me that I like. If you remain unconvinced, please refer back to the previous paragraph's descriptions of me filtered through the voices of my enemies and my mother.

Resolution Maker

I don't usually make New Year's Resolutions. I know myself enough to know that unless I'm ready for it, any attempted lifestyle change won't happen. But once I am ready, I stick with the change pretty well. This year, though, I was ready to work on some things, and 2011 just happened to be a few days away, so I said, "why not," to resolutions. One of which is to, ahem, write more. heh. Not the least of reasons being to keep up with this poor neglected blog. Another is to keep a food diary - which I am happy to report that, as of this writing, I only lapsed for a few weeks, but am back on the wagon*. Having attempted this feat many times prior, this is huge for me.
There aren't many more; I kept the list small because I know that if I can handle these few changes, I'll be encouraged to make more, and I won't wait until the New Year to do it. It's the same for any habit I wish to develop; tell me it takes 2 weeks to see results, and 15 days pass with no change, I'm done. Tell me it takes 2 weeks, and I see results, I'm sticking with it forever.
This past month, I lost 4 pounds. That's one a week. I'd call that results.
Now for the writing...

*With many, many thanks to http://www.myfitnesspal.com/ and its mobile app.