Elevator Safety

Today I had to ride an elevator to the 30th floor of the Laclede Gas Building for a CLE luncheon. The elevator was crowded with others who were also riding to the upper floors. I pressed the button for the 30th floor, and others pressed buttons for the 22nd, 27th and 29th floors.

As the elevator arrived at each person’s destination, the doors opened just as the car came to a stop, so I could actually see the landing while the elevator was still moving. This always unnerves me, but is not unusual for the elevator in this building.

As we neared the top, a man was waiting to depart onto the 29th floor. The doors opened and he stepped off. The doors shut and we just hung there, 29 stories above the ground. I was just making small talk with an acquaintance who was attending the lunch with me and we both noticed that we weren’t moving. I had a fleeting moment of panic as I tried to assess exactly what was happening. A second later, after I was satisfied that I wasn’t hurtling to the ground in the elevator car, I again pressed the button for the 30th floor.

The elevator started to creep up one more floor, and when the doors opened, the floor of the elevator was about 4 inches below the floor of the landing.

All through lunch I thought about what I’d do if I had to make an emergency exit from the top of this building and I was dreading the ride back down to street level.

I know that space at the top of tall buildings is prime real estate, and prestigious as well, but I would not want an office (or an apartment, for that matter) at the top of any building.

I’m probably too much of a worrier, aren’t I? After all, people live and transact business in tall buildings everyday without any problem. I guess that’s just a hazard of the big city.

Said to me just now . . .

“I didn’t know Mr. Noodle’s brother Mr. Noodle is in that movie.”

It’s sad when your everyday conversation with your spouse references “Elmo’s World.”

The Pre-Laundry Pat Down

This weekend, a purple crayon ended up in our laundry. The crayon survived the washing machine, but the heat of the dryer was too much for its waxy genetics. It retaliated by smearing purple streaks on the inside of my dryer and ALL OVER MY FAVORITE SET OF WHITE SHEETS. (Yes, the sheets with the 1-billion thread count; the ones that make you purr when you slide into them.)

I bought a stain remover that said it could remove crayon. It can’t. I’m tempted to dye the sheets purple and keep them anyway.

I’m going to have to start frisking the kids when they come home. Don’t worry; it’s not a constitutional violation if I suspect they’re up to no good.

Don’t Worry, It’s Just a Game

How to play: Pretend you’ve hurt your finger. Ask for ice. Pretend to eat the ice instead of put it on the boo-boo. Laugh. Repeat until you drive mom and dad crazy.

P.S.: He had just finished a yummy bowl of SOUP. Yum!

Matthew’s Thanksgiving Prayer

Thank you God. Matthew. Brandon. Daddy. Mama. Moose. Daddy. Food. Cookie Monster. Amen!

The Blue Sheep of the Family

With Thanksgiving fast approaching and my absence from the family gatherings, I thought I’d give them all something to talk about. I’m coming out of the closet. Yes, I am a Democrat.

I’m sorry, Mom and Dad. I should have told you sooner. Maybe you picked up on some of the tell-tale signs over the years: the conspicuous absence of a “W” sticker on my car, the Sierra Club magazines around the house, the political rants here and there.

I know you raised me to be a good Republican, but I just can’t do it any more. For years I denied my political leanings by registering as an “independent;” trying to mask my democratic tendencies with an “I just don’t want to be bothered for campaign contributions” reason to be an independent.

So as you’re discussing this dreadful turn of events ’round the Thanksgiving table, I’ll give you several things at which to point the blame: law school, moving out west, marrying that guy. Take your pick. They actually all had something to do with it, but most of all, you can blame me.

I’ve become disillusioned with the leadership in this country. I look at our leaders (on both sides of the aisle) and think, “Is this the best and brightest of our country? Is this all we have to offer? Where are the scholars? Where are the statesmen of old?” Can you honestly tell me that George W. is the best person for this job? I don’t think so.

So, as you’re enjoying your sweet potato souffle’ and turkey and awesomely yummy cakes from my Grandmother, please understand that I still love all of you, even though I’m a Democrat.

Random Picture of the Day

Weak . . . from . . . cuteness . . .

Matthew says:

pismiss light (christmas lights)
pinkin (pumpkin)
downtares (downstairs)
happy day (happy birthday)
teenie (candy; however I thought he was saying ‘martini’ the other day)
“Thank you God amen.”
puter (computer)
say shups (ketchup)
in-ked-i-ble (The Incredibles)
Seck (Shrek)
Buzz (Buzz Lightyear and school bus)
Donalds (McDonalds)

Random Thought of the Day

Target had these cute dog bowls on sale for a $1 and they were black and white enamel. Since they were so cheap, I wondered what they were made of. Did I really want to risk poisoning our 13-year-old supermutt with lead paint? Sometimes, maybe, when it’s 15 degrees outside and I have to walk her and she takes her own sweet time. Because after all, she’s got a layer of blubber and a thick fur coat on and 15 degrees to her is balmy.

P.S. I didn’t buy them. Moose is safe. For the time being.

For our Oklahoma friends, I just have to tell them that we’ve found an alternative to Braum’s here in St. Louis. (And if you’re not from Oklahoma: Braum’s is a chain of dairy stores that sells ice cream, milk, burgers, chili . . . kind of like a down home Dairy Queen.) It’s called Oberweis and they have dairy stores around the area. They sell ice cream, milk and other dairy products, but no burgers and chili like Oklahoma’s Braum’s.

Chris has fallen in love with their cinnamon ice cream, which is only available this time of year. He says it’s better than Marble Slab. The milk is pretty good, too; it comes in glass jars and they have pretty high standards for their milk. Thankfully, you can get it in the grocery stores here, without having to make a separate trip.

Oberweis will even deliver milk products to your house. I know! Just like back in the day. You set this cooler on your porch and the Oberweis man delivers milk, cheese and eggs to your house. Now we haven’t tried that service yet because 1) our milk would probably be taken by someone passing through the area and 2) they charge you an extra $2.50 to deliver every week. (That’s the cost of a gallon of milk or 3/4 a bowl of French Onion Soup at Bread Co.!)

Moo.