I'm Renting It, Not Buying It!

When did the cost of prom get so insane????

My son is going to his girlfriend's prom in a couple of weeks.  She was able to rent her dress, which I think is a great idea.  So, the next logical step is the rental of the tux.

Prom is in about 2 weeks, so I told my son we would go today.  We went to a store about 20 minutes away since there isn't a local one anymore, and I thought the bonding would do us good.  His girlfriend came along so she could match her dress color with whatever he needed to match it with.

Let me go back a few years.  When my brothers went to prom, in the 70's, they were able to wear a different tux to school every day for a week, then they got theirs free.  They were gross back then.  The ruffled shirts with bow ties so wide they didn't need a shirt, and the colors - yuck.  I remember my oldest brother with a powder blue tux and a huge white bow tie.  There are pictures around somewhere, I don't think his daughters have ever seen them.  Even when I went to prom the tux rental was really no big deal.  Suspenders and cummerbunds were hip then. Not bad looking at all.  So what happened?

Ok, back to the tux store with my son and his girlfriend.  The line is a mile long, so we looked around.  Nice tuxes everywhere, nice shirts and vests (I'm so glad vests are hip again), shiny shoes, everything you need.  His name was called, the sales lady greeted him nicely and took him away to get fitted.  My brain is still a few years back in time, so I'm looking at ties thinking how nice they both will look all dressed up.  I can feel a tear starting in my eye thinking of my baby boy all dressed up, looking so fine. My son asks me what cuff links I think would look better, black or white.  We got through that, and his girlfriend picked the color that comes closest to her dress.  Black shirt, tie and vest a very light pink, shiny shoes, good.  Everything in order, good.

So now I'm asked to come to a desk and sit.  Red flag - they want me to sit.  The sales lady is click click clicking on her computer and mumbling numbers that could not have been ours.  She must be working on another order because I'm hearing numbers like $100, $125, $130, and they keep going up.  Then she gives me a paper to sign while speaking very fast about returns, an extra $7 charge for cleaning, what happens if you don't return it on time, etc.  I read the paper, ok, no big deal, sign on the line.  Then she asks us to go to the register.  Wait a minute - she skipped the part where I'm told the price.  My son, and his girlfriend, walk away - very smart thing to do.  The sales lady says, "oh it's only $198, but with his $40 discount, and adding tax the total is only $172................"  I missed the rest due to the stroke I was having.  $172?  I didn't hear that right.  "Excuse me?  What was that price??"  She replied,  "Only $172, it would have been over $200 if he and gone with the Vera Wang but that is only for weddings."  "Oh, well good thing he's not getting married, that makes all the difference."  I then asked her, "You do know I'm renting this and not buying it, right??"  "Oh it would be much more to purchase it" she says.  I then asked the parents filling the store, "I'm I the only here that thinks this is absolutely nuts??"  The people cheered, and my son denied knowing me.

What are you going to do?  Nothing.  I dragged myself, clutching my chest, to the register and laid the money down.  My son did pay part of it, a small part, but at least he paid for some of it.  It did give me some gratification knowing the other parents felt the same way, but there is nothing we can do.  As parents, we want them to have fantastic memories, so we pay.  We got in the car, and drove a mile down the road to a restaurant where I drowned my sorrows in a huge blueberry muffin. 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized Adam and Eve had the right idea.  Fig leaves are a dime a dozen, and they sure didn't have to rent them.  Hmmmm, my son is 6'2", wow, that's a gonna take a lota leaves, and where are there fig trees around here?  Better just stay with the tux for now.

My "Sanctuary" is now an "Auditorium"

I was raised in the Protestant church.  It was a little Baptist church just outside of town. One of those churches where an attendance of 50 on a Sunday morning was considered a crowd.  Everyone knew everyone.  The same families had been there since the church began, and it was a great place to grow up.  As kids, we learned all the great Sunday School songs, and heard all the great stories of the Bible.  There was also Vacation Bible School in the summer which was a week of songs, stories, crafts, and an incredibly competitive game of "Red Rover". 

There was something else we were taught.  Respect.  Respect for where we were, church, the house of God. The area where Sunday School was held was a hallway away from the Sanctuary.  We could play, laugh, yell, horse around, whatever.  Once you entered the Sanctuary, there was an air of reverence.  Time to calm down, and listen to what God wanted us to hear.  There were great hymns, great pastors, great clothes, great memories.  My Grandfather use to say (he was a retired Baptist minister), "You would wear your best clothes to meet the Queen of England, why not for the King of Kings?"  We always wore our best on Sunday morning.

When I was in 5th grade, my parents decided to take the family to another church.  This church had a membership of about 1500, was in a huge building, and I was scared to death.  They were "non-denominational" which was explained to me as meaning anyone was able to attend.  Not just Baptist, Methodist, etc., but anyone.  Sunday School was huge, and the Sanctuary was even bigger.  I felt like a very small person sitting in a very big pew.  Once again, the fun area was away from the Sanctuary, and once we entered those doors, we showed respect.  No matter the size, it was the Sanctuary, the house of God.  Respect.

That was 1977.  January 1, 1978, my mother and I became members of that church.  This year was year 34 of that membership.  How many people can say they've been at the same church, a member no less, for 34 years?  Oh, the changes that have happened.

The pastor that was there then is now 3 pastor's ago.  I miss him.  A very great man of God.  The minister after him almost split the church in two.  That's when I learned of church politics.  They can be rough.  The current minister is a good guy, young, but really making huge changes that I don't care for.  The Sanctuary is now called an "Auditorium".  Usually, there is no "Cross", although I did hear there was one at Easter.  The pastor appears to be standoffish.  I've heard people can get in to see him, to talk to him, but I personally don't know anyone that has.  The music is so loud it's obscene.  It's rock and roll and heavy metal.  The way people dance and jump around, I'm waiting for a Sunday morning "Mosh Pit".  There is a traditional service at 9am, but they're really pushing it on the music. People wear anything and everything.  Torn jeans, flip flops, short shorts, you name it.  The minister himself wears jeans.

So you're reading this and thinking, "What a whiner.  You don't go to church for all that, you go for the message, and for what God wants you to hear."  That may be so, but for me, the whole experience use to be uplifting.  It was everything.  The people, the music, the message, the building itself.  Now, for me, it's a disappointment.  There's no reverence, no respect.  It's about numbers.  How do we get more people in?  How do we get more tithes?  I'm just completely spiritually drained from it. 

I miss my Sanctuary, I miss the reverence and respect.  I miss my church.  I miss having a minister so close to God you could feel it in his message.  I'm not saying the guy doesn't believe he's speaking as a messenger, but I just don't get it.  I don't feel it.  Right now, I don't care.  It feels so fake anymore, I'm done with it.  The church, I mean, not God.  God and I are ok.

I don't need the church to be cool with God.

Is It Really All About Race?

I'm not completely sure why Trayvon Martin was shot.  There are so many stories out there I'm not really sure what to believe.  The only fact I know to be true is that a young man is dead.  What I don't understand is, is this a race issue, or has it been made into a race issue by the protesting mobs that are appearing everywhere?  Another question on my mind is, do the Revs. Al Sharpton and Jessie Jackson ever show up to defend a white guy??  That question in itself may be construed as racist, but it's not meant to be.  Just an honest question.

If you look at the stats, prison's hold more black males than white males. Racist? No, fact.
When does it become racist?  What makes an act, statement, word racist?  I guess it all depends on who says it or does it.  I've heard many a black person use the "N" word while talking to each other.  No one is offended.  Put a white person in the mix - whoa, now it's racist.  Why don't we have a "White History Month"?  That would be racist.  Why isn't there a television network called "WET" (White Entertainment Television)?  That would be racist.  Why are there so many black or mixed race children that have no idea who their daddy is?  I know there are white kids with only a mom in the home, but it just seems like there are more black or mixed race kids.  I don't know the statistics, and I'm sure someone will read that and call me a racist, but I'm not.

Why are there so many black people that think they're owed something by the government, or white people, because their ancestors were slaves?  It doesn't matter that some of their own tribal leaders gave them up to be slaves, no, don't mention that, that's racist.  What is with all this "African-American" stuff.  If you're a citizen of this country, natural or otherwise, you're an American.  Racist?  No, fact.

I honestly don't believe George Zimmerman shot Trayvon Martin because he was black.  I believe he panicked, and during whatever was happening, pulled the trigger.  I'm not saying he is innocent, I'm not saying he shouldn't be punished, I'm saying there is more to this than race.  There are so many "concealed carry" permits out there, how this doesn't happen more often is beyond me.  In my opinion, as my blog always is, this should be a wake up call for all the states that let anyone and everyone carry a gun.  Having one in your home is different than having one on your person.  I'm not saying we don't have the right to own guns, I'm just saying if you don't need it in your line of work, like a Police Officer or the like, why do you need to carry one around with you?  George Zimmerman could very well be anyone out there with a permit.  This could happen to anyone who panics while carrying a gun.

This is not a race issue, this is an issue of  too many people without too many brains carrying too many guns.

Martha Stewart is an Evil Genius!!

Every holiday, I try to do something crafty for my family.  Little things to sit on the table, or something for the place settings.  Just something cute to add to the day, and something they can take home with them. 

This Easter, I decided to color eggs the "Martha Stewart" way and, as a bonus, watch her show all week for some great craft ideas.  It's so easy watching her do everything, and all the "Martha Stewart" brand craft products must be the best because she is the guru of all things creative and I'm sure she would never use any product, or promote any product, or put her name on any product that wasn't the best.  HAH - this mentality is what led me to learn that "Martha Stewart" is an evil genius.

I watched her show, took notes, spent money, and for what? 

Blowing eggs is not easy.  You put a hole in one end, and then the other end.  Take a small straw, like a coffee stirrer, and place it at one hole.  Blowing gently, the egg will come out the other end.  Be sure and break the yolk first so it all will come out.  So I did all that and gently blowing only made me hyperventilate.  Nothing was coming out of the egg.  I blew a little harder, still nothing.  I gave it a big blow and the egg blew - all over my kitchen.  Six eggs later, with egg goo dripping off my kitchen cabinets, I gave up and bought an egg blower I found on a Ukrainian Egg web site.  This worked perfectly.  I bet Martha never had egg goo all over her kitchen.

Eggs blown, rinsed out, dried over night, time to color.  Once again, following the "Martha Stewart" egg app I downloaded on my phone, I mixed the color solutions, and placed the eggs in.  Here is where another lesson is learned - eggs blown don't sink, they float.  Try coloring floating eggs.  My kitchen, just a day before, covered with egg goo, now covered with egg coloring stuff.  My hands looked like I had worked in the coal mines all day.   I bet Martha never had egg coloring stuff all over her hands.

After everything dried, I wanted to decorate the eggs the Martha way.  You think I would have learned at this point - sadly, no.  I got my "Martha Stewart" brand glitter, my craft glue, my thin blue painter's tape - all like I saw Martha do, and started in.  Didn't look hard at all.  Tape off egg, spread glue, sprinkle glitter, dry, remove tape, and presto - an egg that would make Rembrandt jealous.  HAH!  Tape didn't want to stick to the egg, glue stuck to my fingers, glitter everywhere - why am I subjecting myself to this???   I bet Martha never had glitter stuck to her butt.

Still wanting to make "nest's" I saw Martha make, I drove all over creation looking for the paper she used that "could be found in any craft store" - NOT - the money I spent in gas I could have used to buy my own paper mill.  One store even looked online and saw her making the "nest's" - the store employee, who is in charge of crafting at the store, had no idea where to find that paper.  I bought some little baskets and improvised.  I bet Martha never had to drive around looking for paper.

So, standing in my kitchen, watching egg goo dripping off the cabinets, egg coloring stuff all over the counter, still washing glitter out of my butt crack, and burning from the cuts on my hands and fingers from the little baskets I bought, I had an epiphany.  MARTHA STEWART IS AN EVIL GENIUS!!

The woman is rolling in cash because of idiots like me who watch her show and think, "That's not so hard".  We buy all her brand name stuff and, after all the egg goo, and all the coloring, and all the paper cuts, realize nothing Martha does is easy, except drive to the bank.  It's like a dangling fishing lure.  I grabbed hold and she reeled me in.  Now, I'm flopping around like a dead fish on the beach, covered in goo, glitter, and paper scraps.  It takes an evil genius to come up with a plan like that.

I just wish I would have come up with it first!