A friend invited me over to an essential oils class/party thing yesterday.
Normally, I'm really skeptical about any kind of doctor conspiracy!/pharmaceuticals are out to get us! kinds of products, but I'll tell you what. When I used to get migraines, sometimes the only thing that was effective was this peppermint oil I bought for a bazillion dollars an ounce and rubbed on my temples and under my nose. I still don't think that all the doctors have a conspiracy going, and I still think that pharmaceutical companies that spend billions of dollars on failed medicines have to make up for that research by charging lots of money for the few successes they do have.
But some stuff? I think some good stuff really is discounted just because it's for hippies and Europeans.
So I went with an open mind. And not only did I like this stuff; I loved it. I tried some sore muscle cream on my poor aching legs (er, I went in the bathroom for this). Pain nearly gone in less than five seconds. It was amazing.
I only spent $10, but I would have loved to have bought one of the kits. They're too expensive, unfortunately, but I think I'm going to save up for one.
Meeting new friends outside of school or work or church is very awkward for me. I sometimes feel like my brain operates on a completely different set of rules than the rest of the world sometimes, so I'm constantly second-guessing myself. Am I too exuberant? Too flippant? Too sarcastic? Too helpful? Too people-pleasing?
This is really fun at the park. I constantly feel like I'm being judged, even when I know I'm not, and this is not helped by the fact that no one is better at judgy than judgy moms. Side note: if you say "judge" enough, it starts to sound fake. So until very recently, I haven't said "hi" or made small talk or anything with other women who are there at the playground with their kids.
And then a few weeks ago, something in my brain broke, and I was like, "This is the dumbest thing ever. Just say hi, you insecure moron." And now I'm making new friends left and right. Not let's-braid-each-others'-hairs kinds of friends, but people who I can smile and wave at without assuming they're thinking, "Ugh, why does SHE keep talking to me?" And even if I do get that vibe from them, I don't care. It's amazing. Thank you, Lord.
I still have a whole heap of Crazy stashed in a back closet of my brain--Crazy I wasn't even aware I had until after Grace was born, but it was there, lurking, all along. But it seems like lately, they're being lifted off me, one by one. And maybe someday I'll be able to talk on the phone without breaking out the anti-nausea medicine. And do you know what that means? This means I will be calling all of you people who have kindly given me your number over the years. MWAHAHAH.
(Don't hold your breath; it will probably be 2020 before I get to that point.)
(Did anyone else read "2020" in a Barbara Walters voice?)
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Exciting things are coming our way
Jeremy will be gone again for another week and a half soon. Jooooy!
Okay, sarcasm aside, there are some ways that it's nice when he's not home:
-The weather is decent this time. We can escape the house without thirty minutes of putting on clothes, then taking half of them off to go potty or change a diaper, and then putting them back on again. On really nice days, we can just walk for ten seconds and be at a playground.
-I tend to go to bed earlier. Used to be, when he went away, I'd stay up until 5 in the morning. But the last few times, I'm asleep by midnight. Thank you, drugs. And thank you, aging brain and body.
-Freedom! Kind of. Ish. I mean, the kids are not exactly independent adults yet, but if we feel like going to the playground at 11:30,we don't have to worry about being home for Jeremy's lunch.
-When he's gone, I get a weird drive to tackle huge projects that I wouldn't normally even want to think about.
This time I think it will be decluttering. Since we had movers last time, I didn't do my traditional Household Purge, in which I throw out or donate everything that isn't nailed down or being worn by someone right that minute. So we have all this stuff lying around driving me crazy, but I haven't done anything about it because this is normally the sort of thing I hate dealing with (mostly because spiders like to pop out and scare the living daylights out of me every time I open a box).
We moved from a 1600-foot house with a terrifying basement to a 1200-sq-ft apartment with a tiny garage. We have never actually parked a vehicle in that garage even though we've lived here for a year. Ridiculous.
So I got all cocky and thought I was starting to get into shape, right?
HAH.
I went and did this workout (not every single set all the way through, but I did 1/4 to 1/2 of each one, I think). My sister posted it a few months ago, but I was too chicken to try it. I did not want to know how terribly weak I really am--especially my legs.
I did *that yesterday.
Today I can barely walk. My arms are fine (thanks, swimming!), but my woefully neglected legs rain down punishment every time I move. I took the kids to the park and "ran" a few laps around the playground, started feeling good again, got home, sat down for .5 seconds, and my muscles were already so stiff I had to kind of roll forward off the couch. I'm thinking Saturday will be a good day to try to start moving again.
It's okay, though. It's not the injury sort of pain, just the YOU REALLY NEED TO WORK HARDER THAN THIS, YOU SISSY kind of pain. Next week when I try it again, it will maybe only be three days before I can walk normally again.
*For some reason it won't embed the whole thing, just the warmup. Irritating.
We enrolled The Child in swim lessons. This might be interesting. There are a lot of things she's afraid of, but she has been terrified of water from birth. She didn't stop screaming through baths until she was something like two (and I don't mean just the hair-washing). Now she remains calm even through hair-washing, and last week when we went swimming, she even enjoyed some splashing and wandering on her own. It's exciting progress; when she's 14, she may even be able to take a shower!
I really am hopeful, though. Dogs have been another big fear, and lately she's been walking up to strange dogs and asking to pet them. She's still scared, especially if they look at her. Maybe she thinks if a dog looks in her eye, it will eat her soul. But she hasn't actually screamed over a dog in at least two weeks.
So, we'll give swimming a go. She's got crazy long arms and giant flappy feet like me, so maybe she'll be a natural. I was afraid of water like she is until THIRD GRADE. Then my parents put me in swim lessons, and that was the end of that. So... wish her (or the instructor) luck!
Okay, sarcasm aside, there are some ways that it's nice when he's not home:
-The weather is decent this time. We can escape the house without thirty minutes of putting on clothes, then taking half of them off to go potty or change a diaper, and then putting them back on again. On really nice days, we can just walk for ten seconds and be at a playground.
-I tend to go to bed earlier. Used to be, when he went away, I'd stay up until 5 in the morning. But the last few times, I'm asleep by midnight. Thank you, drugs. And thank you, aging brain and body.
-Freedom! Kind of. Ish. I mean, the kids are not exactly independent adults yet, but if we feel like going to the playground at 11:30,we don't have to worry about being home for Jeremy's lunch.
-When he's gone, I get a weird drive to tackle huge projects that I wouldn't normally even want to think about.
This time I think it will be decluttering. Since we had movers last time, I didn't do my traditional Household Purge, in which I throw out or donate everything that isn't nailed down or being worn by someone right that minute. So we have all this stuff lying around driving me crazy, but I haven't done anything about it because this is normally the sort of thing I hate dealing with (mostly because spiders like to pop out and scare the living daylights out of me every time I open a box).
We moved from a 1600-foot house with a terrifying basement to a 1200-sq-ft apartment with a tiny garage. We have never actually parked a vehicle in that garage even though we've lived here for a year. Ridiculous.
So I got all cocky and thought I was starting to get into shape, right?
HAH.
I went and did this workout (not every single set all the way through, but I did 1/4 to 1/2 of each one, I think). My sister posted it a few months ago, but I was too chicken to try it. I did not want to know how terribly weak I really am--especially my legs.
I did *that yesterday.
Today I can barely walk. My arms are fine (thanks, swimming!), but my woefully neglected legs rain down punishment every time I move. I took the kids to the park and "ran" a few laps around the playground, started feeling good again, got home, sat down for .5 seconds, and my muscles were already so stiff I had to kind of roll forward off the couch. I'm thinking Saturday will be a good day to try to start moving again.
It's okay, though. It's not the injury sort of pain, just the YOU REALLY NEED TO WORK HARDER THAN THIS, YOU SISSY kind of pain. Next week when I try it again, it will maybe only be three days before I can walk normally again.
*For some reason it won't embed the whole thing, just the warmup. Irritating.
We enrolled The Child in swim lessons. This might be interesting. There are a lot of things she's afraid of, but she has been terrified of water from birth. She didn't stop screaming through baths until she was something like two (and I don't mean just the hair-washing). Now she remains calm even through hair-washing, and last week when we went swimming, she even enjoyed some splashing and wandering on her own. It's exciting progress; when she's 14, she may even be able to take a shower!
I really am hopeful, though. Dogs have been another big fear, and lately she's been walking up to strange dogs and asking to pet them. She's still scared, especially if they look at her. Maybe she thinks if a dog looks in her eye, it will eat her soul. But she hasn't actually screamed over a dog in at least two weeks.
So, we'll give swimming a go. She's got crazy long arms and giant flappy feet like me, so maybe she'll be a natural. I was afraid of water like she is until THIRD GRADE. Then my parents put me in swim lessons, and that was the end of that. So... wish her (or the instructor) luck!
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Sunny days are here. Mostly.
I haven't been around much lately because life has been GOOD. And busy. In a GOOD way. What a wonderful change from two and three Marches (edit: Um, April, Naomi. APRIL)ago. Except:
Ways in which swimmers typically hurt themselves:
1. Rotator cuff problems
2. Other repetitive strain-related injuries
Ways in which I have hurt myself swimming:
1. Chipping my teeth on the side of the pool. Twice. As a seasoned swimmer.
2. Smashing my heel or heels into the wall on a turn. Twice. At least. As a seasoned swimmer.
Idiot. I sometimes wonder how I survived four years of soccer. Or, you know, thirty years of feeding myself with a fork.
The weather here has been (mostly) amazing the last couple of weeks. I have acquired a sunburn and a very faint tan. The sunburn just appeared one afternoon for no apparent reason, this circle right in the middle of my upper back and shoulder. I'm pretty sure it was aliens.
We go to the playground a lot. I've made a few friends. It's odd because last spring and summer, there was hardly anyone there, ever. Now it's just crawling with kids all the time, and so far most of them have been the un-obnoxious sort. I love it! I have yet to run into a mom or nanny who isn't nice and interesting.
Here's the part where I get annoying. Annoying-er, maybe. My friend is running a half-marathon this summer for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, and she's SO CLOSE to raising the required amount.
Don't feel that you have to donate or anything; I'm putting it here because I figured it couldn't hurt, right? I know her personally, and I've only donated $5.
Anyway, I'm putting the link here; you can do whatever you want with it:
Fundraising Page
In the fitness department (feel free to skip this; I mostly keep track for myself), I am, overall, about down to where I was size-wise pre-Grace, though I weigh about ten pounds more. I have more in the stomach than I did then (hard to avoid after what pregnancy does to one's skin), but my legs and arms look way better than they have in years, even when I was spending entire waitressing shifts lugging around heavy stacks of plates. It's such a great feeling. The increased strength, I mean. Not the stacks of plates.
In the last month I have finally started to SEE a difference when I look in the mirror. Sure, I've noticed that I've gone down a couple of clothing sizes, but almost nothing had come off my stomach or arms until very recently, which I think is how the eye gauges size. Especially one's own hypercritical eye.
I can do 13 real pushups now. I could do more when I was younger, but I also weighed a lot less. I don't think I broke 105 lbs before my sophomore year of high school. I'm going to try to figure how to work my way up to pull-ups, too. That's another thing I was never able to do even when I was in great shape; if I can do it now, weighing so much more than I did as a freshman in high school, that'll mean I'm really getting somewhere.
Ways in which swimmers typically hurt themselves:
1. Rotator cuff problems
2. Other repetitive strain-related injuries
Ways in which I have hurt myself swimming:
1. Chipping my teeth on the side of the pool. Twice. As a seasoned swimmer.
2. Smashing my heel or heels into the wall on a turn. Twice. At least. As a seasoned swimmer.
Idiot. I sometimes wonder how I survived four years of soccer. Or, you know, thirty years of feeding myself with a fork.
The weather here has been (mostly) amazing the last couple of weeks. I have acquired a sunburn and a very faint tan. The sunburn just appeared one afternoon for no apparent reason, this circle right in the middle of my upper back and shoulder. I'm pretty sure it was aliens.
We go to the playground a lot. I've made a few friends. It's odd because last spring and summer, there was hardly anyone there, ever. Now it's just crawling with kids all the time, and so far most of them have been the un-obnoxious sort. I love it! I have yet to run into a mom or nanny who isn't nice and interesting.
Here's the part where I get annoying. Annoying-er, maybe. My friend is running a half-marathon this summer for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, and she's SO CLOSE to raising the required amount.
Don't feel that you have to donate or anything; I'm putting it here because I figured it couldn't hurt, right? I know her personally, and I've only donated $5.
Anyway, I'm putting the link here; you can do whatever you want with it:
Fundraising Page
In the fitness department (feel free to skip this; I mostly keep track for myself), I am, overall, about down to where I was size-wise pre-Grace, though I weigh about ten pounds more. I have more in the stomach than I did then (hard to avoid after what pregnancy does to one's skin), but my legs and arms look way better than they have in years, even when I was spending entire waitressing shifts lugging around heavy stacks of plates. It's such a great feeling. The increased strength, I mean. Not the stacks of plates.
In the last month I have finally started to SEE a difference when I look in the mirror. Sure, I've noticed that I've gone down a couple of clothing sizes, but almost nothing had come off my stomach or arms until very recently, which I think is how the eye gauges size. Especially one's own hypercritical eye.
I can do 13 real pushups now. I could do more when I was younger, but I also weighed a lot less. I don't think I broke 105 lbs before my sophomore year of high school. I'm going to try to figure how to work my way up to pull-ups, too. That's another thing I was never able to do even when I was in great shape; if I can do it now, weighing so much more than I did as a freshman in high school, that'll mean I'm really getting somewhere.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
They should have baby Ambien
I keep coming on here to write entries, and they all come out something like, "Waaah, waaah, I'm in a bad mood and sometimes Jeremy is gone, and the kids magically get sick the day before he leaves on surprise trips to Bucharest and the Philippines, so I can't even drop them off at the gym to work off my angst there," and I get about half a paragraph in and realize what a first world snooty tool I sound like.
I bet if I had to haul river water all day with a 33-pound Emmy strapped to my back (YES SHE WEIGHS AS MUCH AS GRACE NOW) in inappropriate footwear, I would feel a lot differently about this week's lack of variety in exercise.
Speaking of which, Jeremy is on a surprise trip to Bucharest. He's almost back, so I don't feel all creeped out telling you that. I usually withhold that information until he's home, but I just don't care this time. Probably because I'm really tired. Grace sleepwalks just enough that I'm now conditioned to jump out of bed and check on every noise. Also, Emmy doesn't sleep anymore. She talks all night. ALL NIGHT. There is occasional screaming. But mostly she just tells herself jokes and then cackles and then goes silent when her partner in crime just lies there sleeping instead of cackling back. And then she's back with the jokes again.
So I've been feeling sorry for myself. And then I read this today, by my sister who has four kids and a crazy schedule: "New approach: work at joy. And by work, I mean all the little things. And by joy, I mean get it through my skull that I have nothing to whine about and everything to be happy about."
Tomorrow I will probably feel sorry for myself again, but for now I've been shamed into joy. Tell me these things directly, and I'll cut you (and then somehow make your injury all about me), but sometimes if I hear them indirectly, it does the trick.
I bet if I had to haul river water all day with a 33-pound Emmy strapped to my back (YES SHE WEIGHS AS MUCH AS GRACE NOW) in inappropriate footwear, I would feel a lot differently about this week's lack of variety in exercise.
Speaking of which, Jeremy is on a surprise trip to Bucharest. He's almost back, so I don't feel all creeped out telling you that. I usually withhold that information until he's home, but I just don't care this time. Probably because I'm really tired. Grace sleepwalks just enough that I'm now conditioned to jump out of bed and check on every noise. Also, Emmy doesn't sleep anymore. She talks all night. ALL NIGHT. There is occasional screaming. But mostly she just tells herself jokes and then cackles and then goes silent when her partner in crime just lies there sleeping instead of cackling back. And then she's back with the jokes again.
So I've been feeling sorry for myself. And then I read this today, by my sister who has four kids and a crazy schedule: "New approach: work at joy. And by work, I mean all the little things. And by joy, I mean get it through my skull that I have nothing to whine about and everything to be happy about."
Tomorrow I will probably feel sorry for myself again, but for now I've been shamed into joy. Tell me these things directly, and I'll cut you (and then somehow make your injury all about me), but sometimes if I hear them indirectly, it does the trick.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Stinker
One of Emmy's favorite things in the world is to shred up her food on the sly and then surreptitiously drop it off her tray when I'm not looking. Little git.
So it's now her job to pick up the floor around her chair after mealtimes. This solution has somewhat backfired. I don't have to painstakingly pick up every last chunk of food off the floor anymore, but she now thinks she's being rewarded for her little habit, and it hasn't deterred her in the slightest.
Well, today it was a tortilla. I was cleaning up the dishes, Grace was doing calisthenics or something in the living room, and Emmy, as usual, was still eating. Or so I thought. Something registered in my brain at some point, and I looked over to see her picking the tiniest pieces off her tortilla and peering intently over the edge of her tray as gravity did its thing. (This sort of nonsense had better mean she'll be a scientist one day) It looked like a bag of rice had spilled on the floor.
So I came over, got her out of her chair and told her she had to pick ALL OF IT up. She looked at me like, "Well... duh. Why do you think I did it?"
But there were probably a hundred of these little tiny pieces, and after about ten, she started losing interest. Mainly because she likes to pick up one little piece at a time and trot back and forth from her pile to the garbage can. Which is really funny when she has a full belly and has been forced to dine shirtless.
And I stood over her like a taskmaster and pointed to each one that she had to pick up. Honestly, it was more work for me than it was for her. But she eventually stopped enjoying it and was all, "Nnnnngh! This is work. Why are you making me WORK?"
I think from now on I will allow her to make a really huge mess before getting her down and making her pick it up. This will work, right?
So it's now her job to pick up the floor around her chair after mealtimes. This solution has somewhat backfired. I don't have to painstakingly pick up every last chunk of food off the floor anymore, but she now thinks she's being rewarded for her little habit, and it hasn't deterred her in the slightest.
Well, today it was a tortilla. I was cleaning up the dishes, Grace was doing calisthenics or something in the living room, and Emmy, as usual, was still eating. Or so I thought. Something registered in my brain at some point, and I looked over to see her picking the tiniest pieces off her tortilla and peering intently over the edge of her tray as gravity did its thing. (This sort of nonsense had better mean she'll be a scientist one day) It looked like a bag of rice had spilled on the floor.
So I came over, got her out of her chair and told her she had to pick ALL OF IT up. She looked at me like, "Well... duh. Why do you think I did it?"
But there were probably a hundred of these little tiny pieces, and after about ten, she started losing interest. Mainly because she likes to pick up one little piece at a time and trot back and forth from her pile to the garbage can. Which is really funny when she has a full belly and has been forced to dine shirtless.
And I stood over her like a taskmaster and pointed to each one that she had to pick up. Honestly, it was more work for me than it was for her. But she eventually stopped enjoying it and was all, "Nnnnngh! This is work. Why are you making me WORK?"
I think from now on I will allow her to make a really huge mess before getting her down and making her pick it up. This will work, right?
Friday, February 17, 2012
VERY
Grace's sense of humor has taken off recently. It's still pretty juvenile, but hey, it's a good thing I have the mind of a 12-year-old. Earlier today:
Grace: You're funny!
Me: No, you're funny.
Grace: No, you're funny!
Me: Well, you're funny... smelling!
Grace: *hysterical giggles*
Me: You're funny... looking!
Grace: *more hysterical giggles* You're funny... ROGER! *SHRIEKS OF LAUGHTER* You're funny... BUTT! *begins to choke on her own saliva*
It was probably funnier if you were actually there. But I so love this age. The last couple of days were rough, due to a very whiny, mopey Grace, but we think she was just on the tail end of a growth spurt. She's eaten like a half-starved bear for the last week, while she normally eats about five molecules a day, mostly bread. Two mornings ago, for breakfast: two scrambled eggs (and I mix them with Greek yogurt), a cup of milk, an orange, five pieces of toast, and two more pieces of bread when I got sick of making toast. That's more than Jeremy normally eats. She also ate a pretty sizable lunch and dinner. She grew half an inch and weighs what feels like ten more pounds. She's not very waif-like anymore.
Emmy is now two. VERY TWO. Everything she does lately is VERY. She is VERY HAPPY. Or VERY WHINY. Or VERY GIGGLY. Or VERY AWAKE. Or, my favorite, VERY DEFIANT. I do not bend to her will, but man is it hard sometimes. I think that kid will go far, so long as she doesn't turn to a highly lucrative life of crime. She doesn't care what you think of her, THANKYOUVERYMUCH. She doesn't even follow Grace around anymore. I do not see this one succumbing to peer pressure or idiot boyfriends. So that's good.
I have gotten to the point where swimming is fun and not completely drudgery after the first 200 yards. It feels amazing. My endurance is still not the greatest, but I love the feeling of getting into the water and just slicing through it. Compared to other real swimmers, I'm still pretty terrible, but there aren't a lot of real swimmers around her, so my ego goes mostly unchecked.
There was a lady in the pool last week who was faster than I, and it drove me CRAZY. I got in, and she was in the lane next to me, and I practically sprinted all of my sets, which was a really dumb move. She finally got out (thank goodness; I would have eventually given myself a heart attack), and I did a very short cool down and got out with shaking arms. I felt amazing the next day, though.
I have also been doing the 100 Pushups program for the last several weeks. I've always been terrible at pushups. Even at my most fit, I never topped 50, which is pretty sad considering the amount of arm and chest strength swimmers are supposed to have. I love this program because it tells you exactly what you should do, and it takes less than five minutes a day.
I'm starting very, very slowly to avoid injury. I do each day three times. I just finished week two. Doing knee pushups. It's kind of embarrassing. But I have noticed that everything else has gotten easier since I started this. And once I complete it with knee pushups, I'll go back and do it with real pushups, and hopefully someday I won't be a total weakling anymore.
Grace: You're funny!
Me: No, you're funny.
Grace: No, you're funny!
Me: Well, you're funny... smelling!
Grace: *hysterical giggles*
Me: You're funny... looking!
Grace: *more hysterical giggles* You're funny... ROGER! *SHRIEKS OF LAUGHTER* You're funny... BUTT! *begins to choke on her own saliva*
It was probably funnier if you were actually there. But I so love this age. The last couple of days were rough, due to a very whiny, mopey Grace, but we think she was just on the tail end of a growth spurt. She's eaten like a half-starved bear for the last week, while she normally eats about five molecules a day, mostly bread. Two mornings ago, for breakfast: two scrambled eggs (and I mix them with Greek yogurt), a cup of milk, an orange, five pieces of toast, and two more pieces of bread when I got sick of making toast. That's more than Jeremy normally eats. She also ate a pretty sizable lunch and dinner. She grew half an inch and weighs what feels like ten more pounds. She's not very waif-like anymore.
Emmy is now two. VERY TWO. Everything she does lately is VERY. She is VERY HAPPY. Or VERY WHINY. Or VERY GIGGLY. Or VERY AWAKE. Or, my favorite, VERY DEFIANT. I do not bend to her will, but man is it hard sometimes. I think that kid will go far, so long as she doesn't turn to a highly lucrative life of crime. She doesn't care what you think of her, THANKYOUVERYMUCH. She doesn't even follow Grace around anymore. I do not see this one succumbing to peer pressure or idiot boyfriends. So that's good.
I have gotten to the point where swimming is fun and not completely drudgery after the first 200 yards. It feels amazing. My endurance is still not the greatest, but I love the feeling of getting into the water and just slicing through it. Compared to other real swimmers, I'm still pretty terrible, but there aren't a lot of real swimmers around her, so my ego goes mostly unchecked.
There was a lady in the pool last week who was faster than I, and it drove me CRAZY. I got in, and she was in the lane next to me, and I practically sprinted all of my sets, which was a really dumb move. She finally got out (thank goodness; I would have eventually given myself a heart attack), and I did a very short cool down and got out with shaking arms. I felt amazing the next day, though.
I have also been doing the 100 Pushups program for the last several weeks. I've always been terrible at pushups. Even at my most fit, I never topped 50, which is pretty sad considering the amount of arm and chest strength swimmers are supposed to have. I love this program because it tells you exactly what you should do, and it takes less than five minutes a day.
I'm starting very, very slowly to avoid injury. I do each day three times. I just finished week two. Doing knee pushups. It's kind of embarrassing. But I have noticed that everything else has gotten easier since I started this. And once I complete it with knee pushups, I'll go back and do it with real pushups, and hopefully someday I won't be a total weakling anymore.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
I bet they'd NEVER steal my credit card number
I got this email today:
Okay, I thought, so I shouldn't discriminate just because someone doesn't have a perfect grasp of English. You should hear some of my Spanish. Doesn't mean I can't properly serve drinks to a bunch of Spanish-speaking restaurant patrons, right? Well, usually.
Also, 5% off! I will take 5% off! Sure! Even if it is odd that you're peddling your wares to a blog that hasn't been updated in forever.
Instead of clicking on the link itself, I typed in the address. You know how spammers can be tricksy. I didn't get a virus, which is good. It's pretty much goal in any sort of interaction (having low standards makes life a lot more enjoyable).
The tagline is "Risingtaste - Where taste meets fashion." Which... seems redundant. "Risingtaste - Where pain meets terrible burns." Or, on a more positive note, "Risingtaste - Where humor meets comedy." But, again, grasp of the language doesn't necessarily mean anything, right?
Then I went to look at their clothes. I found a few cute things, but they all have the same size: "Free Size" I don't know what that means. But I also noticed that everything was under $15, which sounded crazy to me. Then I noticed in fine print under the tagline: "Wholesale clothing from China." Which got me all suspicious, so I went to their "About us!" page. And it seemed rather, well, defensive. Some choice quotes:
Translation: We're totally shady and suspicious, but please buy from us anyway because the CHINESE GOVERNMENT is okay with us.
Translation: "We're a gigantic sweatshop. We rip off styles from manufacturers around the world and pay minuscule wages to provide you with thin, jersey-knit shirts at ridiculously low prices."
What? It looks like prison? Nooo. But look at all the natural light that these hundreds of women have to work in, with their nice sewing areas. We also feed them twice per day!
Subject: About your blogspot.com - blog. Please read.
Hello Dear, we saw your blog at http://tightwadintraining.blogspot.com and wanted to get in touch with you. We like your blog and would like to offer you a cooperation. Here is a Coupon with a 5% discount on all orders at our fashion online store http://risingtaste.com (coupon: blogspot2012). You may use it for your personal use or make a article about http://risingtaste.com at your blog. I hope you like our gift. Yours Risingtaste.com
Okay, I thought, so I shouldn't discriminate just because someone doesn't have a perfect grasp of English. You should hear some of my Spanish. Doesn't mean I can't properly serve drinks to a bunch of Spanish-speaking restaurant patrons, right? Well, usually.
Also, 5% off! I will take 5% off! Sure! Even if it is odd that you're peddling your wares to a blog that hasn't been updated in forever.
Instead of clicking on the link itself, I typed in the address. You know how spammers can be tricksy. I didn't get a virus, which is good. It's pretty much goal in any sort of interaction (having low standards makes life a lot more enjoyable).
The tagline is "Risingtaste - Where taste meets fashion." Which... seems redundant. "Risingtaste - Where pain meets terrible burns." Or, on a more positive note, "Risingtaste - Where humor meets comedy." But, again, grasp of the language doesn't necessarily mean anything, right?
Then I went to look at their clothes. I found a few cute things, but they all have the same size: "Free Size" I don't know what that means. But I also noticed that everything was under $15, which sounded crazy to me. Then I noticed in fine print under the tagline: "Wholesale clothing from China." Which got me all suspicious, so I went to their "About us!" page. And it seemed rather, well, defensive. Some choice quotes:
We are legally registered as a private company in ZHEJIANG, CHINA, and have received business license from CHINA government. Purchase at risingtaste.com indicates safe and well-managed trade.
Translation: We're totally shady and suspicious, but please buy from us anyway because the CHINESE GOVERNMENT is okay with us.
We have our own factory in Linhai, Zhejiang. also, in order to provide more styles(more than 6000 styles ),we ally with many clothing manufacturers specializing in producing export clothing in SHANGHAI,GUANGZHOU and ZHEJIANG of China, which enables us to provide trendy styles in massive amount and in remarkably low wholesale price. Now we are the best supplier to wholesalers, retailers and boutiques online or entities shops all over the world.
Translation: "We're a gigantic sweatshop. We rip off styles from manufacturers around the world and pay minuscule wages to provide you with thin, jersey-knit shirts at ridiculously low prices."
What? It looks like prison? Nooo. But look at all the natural light that these hundreds of women have to work in, with their nice sewing areas. We also feed them twice per day!
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