I don't know when it happened but I am now a person who always has batteries.
All sizes and lots of em.
In a drawer.
All organized.
Triple A.
D's.
Those weird size 9 that my cousin Scott showed me how to "test" when I was 8 by putting on my tongue.
If I was a nicer person, I would tell you not to try this.
I am not that nice.
I don't have these batteries because we have lots of state of the art remote controls working fancy schmancie electronics.
One of our TV's was my father's before he died and one is from Mike Brown's mother, who is also deceased. She died before we were married (maybe over 10 years now) and my father has been gone since 2007. Sometimes Lucio feels like Best Buy is calling out to him.
No flat screen plasma HD LED's for us.
Not yet.
I do sometimes find myself wishing we needed a new TV, but until one of these goes to join it's former owner, I am not pulling out our credit card.
I also don't have these batteries because we have anything all that fancy in either of our bedside table.
Which is not to say we don't have goody drawers.
We do.
Relax.
We simply have our perfectly lovely life together that doesn't always afford enough time for that many, um, toys.
It's one of my resolutions though.
We have exactly 19 Double A, 8 D's and 11 Triple A's.
Where was this person when I was jammin to my walkman in 1989 walking back Elkins dorm at Maryland? Let's Go, Maryland!! Fear the Turtle!
All these batteries got me noticing things I now have - and use - that I am sure seemed like a ridiculous waste of money 10 years ago.
And now I swear by them.
Here are some things I simultaneously experience buyers remorse and exceedingly high levels of pride when I see in my closets, drawers, and cabinets.
________________________________________
A cupcake carrier. Why would anyone have this? I'll tell you why.
How in the name of all that is good and holy are you supposed to transport cupcakes to school without one if these? Otherwise the icing gets stuck to everything. And really, who wants to eat those cupcakes?
________________________________________
Jewelry cleaner for gems and jewelry cleaning for silver. I used to, well, I never really had jewelry to concern myself with cleaning. But the fact is that the more weight I gain, the more earrings and bracelets Lucio's wisely purchases at holidays and birthdays.
Here's your little pearl of Heather wisdom for the day:
Never buy your wife XXX anything or Size 24 pants. Because if they are not from Nordstrom or Talbots, they could be too tight.
That bitch Lane Bryant is supposedly all about the big girls, but she sizes really small.
Whore.
________________________________________
Back and Neck Massager from Sharper Image. Truth be told, I love this thing. It totally comes in handy all the time. We are not getting any younger, and ever since we got this Wii for Christmas, it's getting used regu
larly.
Yes, it is the one Samantha Jones remarked "Not if you mount it." I will leave it to you to decide if I know she is right or wrong. But, really, how often was Samantha wrong about her sexual pleasure?
________________________________________
LL Bean Canvas Bags (in all sizes) with Monogram. I use them for the pool, for work, for travel, and vacation. They are so effortlessly elitist with their simple lines and completely useful. And just so you know, the largest bag is too big for to fit in an overhead on any American Airlines flight.
________________________________________
Cookie cutters for all holidays. Christmas. Halloween. Valentine's Day (for which I also have a heart shaped cake pan). Easter. 4th of July. Jack's birthday, in that I have all the letters to his name. The numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5. They are all in these lovely containers in one drawer in the basement and I am ready to bake shapes with no urgent need to run to Williams Sonoma.
Not that east central Illinois has a Williams Sonoma, or a Trader Joe's, or a DSW...
________________________________________
Already ironed and folded linen napkins. I have them dry cleaned in October each year, and they are ready for the holidays. I follow each usage with a solid regimen of wash separately and iron with spray starch.
________________________________________
Two gravy boats (large and small) and several matching and different sized serving plates.
________________________________________
A set of eight Luray Pottery Tea cups and saucers. Two blue, two pink, two yellow and two green. Literally everyone who uses them asked where I got them.
Then I get to tell the famous story of my Ebay nemisis. Suffice to say, I learned the hard way about setting your alarms to get up in middle of the night, log in, and outbid.
Sadly, I did lose my first choice water pitcher in the process. Damnable tramp with login name of kohenry273.
________________________________________
As I have said before, Lucio laments regularly that we have too much stuff.
Now I can just refer to my blog to show clearly though he may be right...
what we have, we use.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Samantha Blodgett (1970-2009)
Not everything is funny.
Or happening to me directly.
I know people think I don't know that. But I do.
A lovely, smart, beautiful friend since high school, Samantha Ivy Blodgett, died on Saturday, December 19, 2009. She was 38 years old.
Samantha suffered with Leiomyosarcoma.
Rare cancer.
Crazy rare.
4 in 1 million people.
That is 4 in 1 million.
I know? Right?
38 is too young. By about a lifetime.
No mother should have to see her child like that.
No friend should see anyone in that state.
Frankly, no one should ever ever ever (like ever) have to go through what Samantha faced for the past 15 months.
She was brave.
She was ironic in the face of disease.
She never once wanted to be treated like a sick person.
She was strong.
She continued to gather Frequent Flier Miles (up to and including last month, so as not to interfere with her elite status)
She made it to her Forever 39 Birthday party.
She lived her whole life naturally blonde with fantastic boobs.
She is missed and she was loved. Always will be.
National Leiomyosarcoma Foundation: www.nlmsf.org/donations.html
Stupid cancer.
Or happening to me directly.
I know people think I don't know that. But I do.
A lovely, smart, beautiful friend since high school, Samantha Ivy Blodgett, died on Saturday, December 19, 2009. She was 38 years old.
Samantha suffered with Leiomyosarcoma.
Rare cancer.
Crazy rare.
4 in 1 million people.
That is 4 in 1 million.
I know? Right?
38 is too young. By about a lifetime.
No mother should have to see her child like that.
No friend should see anyone in that state.
Frankly, no one should ever ever ever (like ever) have to go through what Samantha faced for the past 15 months.
She was brave.
She was ironic in the face of disease.
She never once wanted to be treated like a sick person.
She was strong.
She continued to gather Frequent Flier Miles (up to and including last month, so as not to interfere with her elite status)
She made it to her Forever 39 Birthday party.
She lived her whole life naturally blonde with fantastic boobs.
She is missed and she was loved. Always will be.
National Leiomyosarcoma Foundation: www.nlmsf.org/donations.html
Stupid cancer.
Monday, December 7, 2009
The Crown Prince of Puebla
Too much to do between 5:30 pm and 8 pm.
Never going to make it to pick up dry cleaning, get the Rx from Walgreens, drop the books at the library, get four more things for dinner at the grocery and make dinner.
And get a certain kindergartener fed, washed, lotioned, dressed, read to and sleeping all before 8:30 pm.
Couldn't do it all myself.
Need a staff.
I ask Lucio to go to Target for me.
With a list.
And take Jack with him. So I can hop in and out of the car and be efficient.
I have coupons for Target for paper towels and toilet paper and shampoo and conditioner (not co-mingled, two independent containers of each) and we need a present for a birthday party Jack has been invited to (for a child I couldn't pick out of a line up).
Dear reader, would you imagine I would ask Lucio to go shopping with a list and take the child if I didn't have just too much to do in this incredibly short amount of time?
Like I would choose to skip a trip to Target.
I love Target.
There is always something I need at Target.
I don't even know I need it yet, but I know Target has what I need.
But don't call it Tar-jay.
It was cute in 2001. The first time.
It's not cute anymore. Nope. Not cute.
Stupid.
No, reader, you wouldn't imagine that I would ask this of Lucio were it not completely necessary.
You know who did?
Yes, He did.
But let me be clear.
He was okay with going to Target.
He was even okay with the child accompanying him.
He was cool with the list.
I knew he'd add Doritos and some cookies to the list. No worries.
Like I didn't factor that in. What am I, new?
No, Lucio's break down was the coupons.
I hand him the list and the coupons to him.
He looks at me blankly and doesn't immediately take them from me.
"What are these for?"
"Coupons. You've heard about the economy tanking and all. This is me, doing my part for our little Vazquez economy."
"I have never used these before."
"Well, honey, you purchase the items in the small picture, checking the size is the right, and it costs less."
"I really don't want to. What are you doing? I'll do that. You go to Target."
See, now I am going to stand on principle. My husband, who has been a citizen of the US for just over a year, as most of you know, comes from rural Mexico.
The state of Puebla.
Three bumpy hours south of Mexico City.
Maybe when we first met and you asked me where Lucio was from, I told you about the grand mountains and incredible colores of the flowers. The gardens of avocados, tomato, and cilantro, just waiting for you to crave guacamole. His donkey.
I probably told you about Lucio being related to the whole town. Or that his father was Mayor.
I can sell the shit out of the beauty and simplicity of Tehuacan.
Or more specifically, San Bartolo Teon Tepec.
The straight scoop?
The are farm animals wandering around everywhere.
Dogs without homes.
When the small Church festival caused a power outage to the whole town, the only person freaking out was me.
That fucking rooster every damned morning.
You want hot water? Better start burning some shit.
You've finished doing your business in toilet? There's a big (really big) hole in the ground filled with water and you have to get a bucket of water and throw the bucket of water down the toilet. There is nothing to flush.
Yes, I stood there the first time for a few minutes before sitting. I thought if I filled it up we'd just toss the whole thing out and go get a new one.
Let me say again how much I love this man. And our Mexican family couldn't be nicer.
This little ditty usually sums up my feelings about his home town.
I was sitting under a tree quietly reading Fast Food Nation and a fucking chicken jumped up to perch on my arm chair.
Flipped the damned chair over and all I could see through the dust all around me was my extended family running to help me up... and my beloved husband laying on the ground laughing his rather Americanized ass off, spewing some shit about "I can think of 20 people, off the top of my head, who would have paid to see that."
Indeed.
Quaint. Rural. Simple. All completely true. Parts are so perfect I cannot explain it. A family meal every night in the courtyard with a live band. And it had nothing to do with our being in Mexico. Just a regular old Miercoles.
But I ask you, does this sound like underpinnings of a man now refusing to use coupons?
I think not.
90 minutes later, I am back at the house, dry cleaning in closets, prescriptions in cabinet, library books returned, dinner on the stove with all listed ingredients and all the fixinng for dinner tomorrow in the fridge ready to crock pot in the morning.
Lucio comes in.
Jack is eating Dorritos.
Lucio tells me they came with the paper towel.
I ask him where the shampoo and conditioner are, as I search the two bags and cannot see them.
"They didn't have the one you wanted."
"So you got me nothing?"
"I knew you wanted what you wanted." (I'll give him that one.)
"Okay. Where's the coupon?"
"What coupon?"
"The one for shampoo and the one for conditioner."
"I gave it to the guy."
"You left it there? I don't understand. You didn't get the stuff. Where is the coupon?"
"I gave it to the guy."
"You said that already. I still don't understand."
He looks at me and says, "Heather, there was a line of people behind me, and they were all looking at me and so, I left it there."
He turns to walk out of the kitchen and calls out, "And I am not going back to get it so don't bother asking."
I watch him saunter down the hall in his Kenneth Cole shoes and entire outfit from LL Bean I picked out last season.
"To the manor born" I mumble just loud enough for him to hear.
"I am going to school now, Heather. I heard that and I understand it now."
I think this is what they call just desserts.
Never going to make it to pick up dry cleaning, get the Rx from Walgreens, drop the books at the library, get four more things for dinner at the grocery and make dinner.
And get a certain kindergartener fed, washed, lotioned, dressed, read to and sleeping all before 8:30 pm.
Couldn't do it all myself.
Need a staff.
I ask Lucio to go to Target for me.
With a list.
And take Jack with him. So I can hop in and out of the car and be efficient.
I have coupons for Target for paper towels and toilet paper and shampoo and conditioner (not co-mingled, two independent containers of each) and we need a present for a birthday party Jack has been invited to (for a child I couldn't pick out of a line up).
Dear reader, would you imagine I would ask Lucio to go shopping with a list and take the child if I didn't have just too much to do in this incredibly short amount of time?
Like I would choose to skip a trip to Target.
I love Target.
There is always something I need at Target.
I don't even know I need it yet, but I know Target has what I need.
But don't call it Tar-jay.
It was cute in 2001. The first time.
It's not cute anymore. Nope. Not cute.
Stupid.
No, reader, you wouldn't imagine that I would ask this of Lucio were it not completely necessary.
You know who did?
Yes, He did.
But let me be clear.
He was okay with going to Target.
He was even okay with the child accompanying him.
He was cool with the list.
I knew he'd add Doritos and some cookies to the list. No worries.
Like I didn't factor that in. What am I, new?
No, Lucio's break down was the coupons.
I hand him the list and the coupons to him.
He looks at me blankly and doesn't immediately take them from me.
"What are these for?"
"Coupons. You've heard about the economy tanking and all. This is me, doing my part for our little Vazquez economy."
"I have never used these before."
"Well, honey, you purchase the items in the small picture, checking the size is the right, and it costs less."
"I really don't want to. What are you doing? I'll do that. You go to Target."
See, now I am going to stand on principle. My husband, who has been a citizen of the US for just over a year, as most of you know, comes from rural Mexico.
The state of Puebla.
Three bumpy hours south of Mexico City.
Maybe when we first met and you asked me where Lucio was from, I told you about the grand mountains and incredible colores of the flowers. The gardens of avocados, tomato, and cilantro, just waiting for you to crave guacamole. His donkey.
I probably told you about Lucio being related to the whole town. Or that his father was Mayor.
I can sell the shit out of the beauty and simplicity of Tehuacan.
Or more specifically, San Bartolo Teon Tepec.
The straight scoop?
The are farm animals wandering around everywhere.
Dogs without homes.
When the small Church festival caused a power outage to the whole town, the only person freaking out was me.
That fucking rooster every damned morning.
You want hot water? Better start burning some shit.
You've finished doing your business in toilet? There's a big (really big) hole in the ground filled with water and you have to get a bucket of water and throw the bucket of water down the toilet. There is nothing to flush.
Yes, I stood there the first time for a few minutes before sitting. I thought if I filled it up we'd just toss the whole thing out and go get a new one.
Let me say again how much I love this man. And our Mexican family couldn't be nicer.
This little ditty usually sums up my feelings about his home town.
I was sitting under a tree quietly reading Fast Food Nation and a fucking chicken jumped up to perch on my arm chair.
Flipped the damned chair over and all I could see through the dust all around me was my extended family running to help me up... and my beloved husband laying on the ground laughing his rather Americanized ass off, spewing some shit about "I can think of 20 people, off the top of my head, who would have paid to see that."
Indeed.
Quaint. Rural. Simple. All completely true. Parts are so perfect I cannot explain it. A family meal every night in the courtyard with a live band. And it had nothing to do with our being in Mexico. Just a regular old Miercoles.
But I ask you, does this sound like underpinnings of a man now refusing to use coupons?
I think not.
90 minutes later, I am back at the house, dry cleaning in closets, prescriptions in cabinet, library books returned, dinner on the stove with all listed ingredients and all the fixinng for dinner tomorrow in the fridge ready to crock pot in the morning.
Lucio comes in.
Jack is eating Dorritos.
Lucio tells me they came with the paper towel.
I ask him where the shampoo and conditioner are, as I search the two bags and cannot see them.
"They didn't have the one you wanted."
"So you got me nothing?"
"I knew you wanted what you wanted." (I'll give him that one.)
"Okay. Where's the coupon?"
"What coupon?"
"The one for shampoo and the one for conditioner."
"I gave it to the guy."
"You left it there? I don't understand. You didn't get the stuff. Where is the coupon?"
"I gave it to the guy."
"You said that already. I still don't understand."
He looks at me and says, "Heather, there was a line of people behind me, and they were all looking at me and so, I left it there."
He turns to walk out of the kitchen and calls out, "And I am not going back to get it so don't bother asking."
I watch him saunter down the hall in his Kenneth Cole shoes and entire outfit from LL Bean I picked out last season.
"To the manor born" I mumble just loud enough for him to hear.
"I am going to school now, Heather. I heard that and I understand it now."
I think this is what they call just desserts.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
What was that?
Is anyone else having trouble understanding what they are singing on the new Gap commercials? I had to listen - and by listen I mean pause and rewind - to the ones with the little girls at least three times. In case you want to know, this is what I think they are saying.
I love my snugglie sweater.
I love my snugglie sweater.
How cute are these boots?
How cute are these boots?
I have watched the one about warm flannels at least seven times. I have no idea what they are saying. Is there something about electronics and then it's all about flannel? Could that be right?
I liked it better when the gap dancers just danced.
Maybe my hearing is going. On more than one occasion, Jack has asked me to turn on my listening ears. People who completely love me have been know to suggest I don't listen well. Same goes for people who sign my paychecks. I am not the best listener. But maybe...
I am not not listening because I don't care what you're saying.
I am not not listening because I don't care what you're saying AND I maybe cannot hear you.
Driving to the Nutcracker tonight, Jack is in the back seat telling me the story of Nutcracker. They have learned about it at school because he knows the whole story. Uses proper names, like Clara. Mentions the Godfather. Knows about the land of sweets.
I congratulate him on knowing so much of the story. I smile and have my elitist smug mommy moment of the day.
I then hear, "There's more than one virgin of the the story, Mommy."
Pashwasha?
"I am sorry Jack, what was that?"
"What was what Mommy?"
"More than one what?"
"Virgin."
The light changes. I don't drive right away.
"Buddy, are you saying version?"
"Yes, Mommy."
Resume driving at normal pace. A few minutes later I hear, "What did you think I said, Mommy?"
I pretend to not hear him.
Whew.
And I wasn't sure I'd have a topic for my blog today.
I love my snugglie sweater.
I love my snugglie sweater.
How cute are these boots?
How cute are these boots?
I have watched the one about warm flannels at least seven times. I have no idea what they are saying. Is there something about electronics and then it's all about flannel? Could that be right?
I liked it better when the gap dancers just danced.
Maybe my hearing is going. On more than one occasion, Jack has asked me to turn on my listening ears. People who completely love me have been know to suggest I don't listen well. Same goes for people who sign my paychecks. I am not the best listener. But maybe...
I am not not listening because I don't care what you're saying.
I am not not listening because I don't care what you're saying AND I maybe cannot hear you.
Driving to the Nutcracker tonight, Jack is in the back seat telling me the story of Nutcracker. They have learned about it at school because he knows the whole story. Uses proper names, like Clara. Mentions the Godfather. Knows about the land of sweets.
I congratulate him on knowing so much of the story. I smile and have my elitist smug mommy moment of the day.
I then hear, "There's more than one virgin of the the story, Mommy."
Pashwasha?
"I am sorry Jack, what was that?"
"What was what Mommy?"
"More than one what?"
"Virgin."
The light changes. I don't drive right away.
"Buddy, are you saying version?"
"Yes, Mommy."
Resume driving at normal pace. A few minutes later I hear, "What did you think I said, Mommy?"
I pretend to not hear him.
Whew.
And I wasn't sure I'd have a topic for my blog today.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
St. Elmo's deal with the devil
I think I am more of a morning person now.
Not like crack of dawn morning. Just regular old morning. Around 7 am. Nothing crazy. Not still dark morning.
Not like Becca, who has this alarm on her blackberry that goes off every 20 minutes beginning just before 5 am...even though she doesn't make a move to get out of bed before 5:45 am. Shut up. Ask Juan. Why would I lie?
I like 6:45 am. Check an email or two. Check the weather.
I like being showered before Jack wakes up, before Lucio begins to unwrap himself from our bedding.
Lucio has this ongoing lament that I don't stay under the covers and instead try to use his body for warmth. Therefore, he winds up with all the covers on him. There's a whole section of this diatribe about me sleeping on the diagonal.
I say I do it because I like him and want to be close to him.
He says it's because I still go to bed 2-3 hours before he does and I figure he'll work around me when he gets there. Most nights, I go to bed at 10:30 or so and he comes in around 2 am. What? He is in school full time and needs to study.
He also says because he's a full time student, he's thinking of growing his ponytail back.
I say go for it.
It will look so sssseeeexxxxyyyy with streaks of gray.
Tangent...
The 7-8 o'clock hour is my fave. You want to know why?
Reruns of West Wing. Josh. Toby. President Bartlett and Leo. Mrs. Laningham...(say it like Oprah would if she was bringing her out of stage)...Charlie. And the two most perfect examples of a young DC gals, Donna Moss and Ainsley Hayes. (It's from Pinafore).
And yes, Sam Seaborn. So righteous and cute and we completely forgive him for sleeping with a hooker.
But how is it he looks as good as he did when he was in the movie Class in 1983. Not that he is old. He isn't. He'll be 46 next March. He is as hot today as he was 25 years ago. Does that seem fair?
What is going on that he looks like this at 45?
http://www.imdb.com/media/rm984650752/nm0000507
I don't watch Brothers and Sisters... I cannot keep the brothers straight on that show. One of them is Baltazhar Getty who was a TeenBeet sort of guy when I was 15 and now I cannot pick him out of the cast.
But I know Rob is in this show and he still is as handsome as the day is long. No signs of aging. His gray hairs are suble and defining. Remember, dear friends, in St. Elmo's Fire, he was snogging Mare Winningham. She is a touch older than him. She turned 50 this year. And she's fine to look at. Here she is 7 years ago.
http://www.imdb.com/media/rm3590494208/nm0001858
This is Rob. In 1983.
http://www.imdb.com/media/rm3347619584/tt0087866
Admit it. There's hardly a difference.
I am fine with all of this. I just pose these questions for my own amusement.
Every morning I am transfixed by West Wing. There are two episodes every morning. One at 7 am. One at 8. I cry when Toby arranges the funeral for the homeless vet. I wait and wait for Josh to love Donna. I literally squeel with joy when Amy Gardner is there fighting the good fight for us gals.
I am now DVR'ing each of them and watching at night. Oh, wow I forgot Claudia Jean!!! And Danny Kincannon. No, Viva, you did not miss anything...
Maybe it's West Wing's fault I am having trouble sleeping.
I am waiting to be called in to work at the pleasure of the President.
Not like crack of dawn morning. Just regular old morning. Around 7 am. Nothing crazy. Not still dark morning.
Not like Becca, who has this alarm on her blackberry that goes off every 20 minutes beginning just before 5 am...even though she doesn't make a move to get out of bed before 5:45 am. Shut up. Ask Juan. Why would I lie?
I like 6:45 am. Check an email or two. Check the weather.
I like being showered before Jack wakes up, before Lucio begins to unwrap himself from our bedding.
Lucio has this ongoing lament that I don't stay under the covers and instead try to use his body for warmth. Therefore, he winds up with all the covers on him. There's a whole section of this diatribe about me sleeping on the diagonal.
I say I do it because I like him and want to be close to him.
He says it's because I still go to bed 2-3 hours before he does and I figure he'll work around me when he gets there. Most nights, I go to bed at 10:30 or so and he comes in around 2 am. What? He is in school full time and needs to study.
He also says because he's a full time student, he's thinking of growing his ponytail back.
I say go for it.
It will look so sssseeeexxxxyyyy with streaks of gray.
Tangent...
The 7-8 o'clock hour is my fave. You want to know why?
Reruns of West Wing. Josh. Toby. President Bartlett and Leo. Mrs. Laningham...(say it like Oprah would if she was bringing her out of stage)...Charlie. And the two most perfect examples of a young DC gals, Donna Moss and Ainsley Hayes. (It's from Pinafore).
And yes, Sam Seaborn. So righteous and cute and we completely forgive him for sleeping with a hooker.
But how is it he looks as good as he did when he was in the movie Class in 1983. Not that he is old. He isn't. He'll be 46 next March. He is as hot today as he was 25 years ago. Does that seem fair?
What is going on that he looks like this at 45?
http://www.imdb.com/media/rm984650752/nm0000507
I don't watch Brothers and Sisters... I cannot keep the brothers straight on that show. One of them is Baltazhar Getty who was a TeenBeet sort of guy when I was 15 and now I cannot pick him out of the cast.
But I know Rob is in this show and he still is as handsome as the day is long. No signs of aging. His gray hairs are suble and defining. Remember, dear friends, in St. Elmo's Fire, he was snogging Mare Winningham. She is a touch older than him. She turned 50 this year. And she's fine to look at. Here she is 7 years ago.
http://www.imdb.com/media/rm3590494208/nm0001858
This is Rob. In 1983.
http://www.imdb.com/media/rm3347619584/tt0087866
Admit it. There's hardly a difference.
I am fine with all of this. I just pose these questions for my own amusement.
Every morning I am transfixed by West Wing. There are two episodes every morning. One at 7 am. One at 8. I cry when Toby arranges the funeral for the homeless vet. I wait and wait for Josh to love Donna. I literally squeel with joy when Amy Gardner is there fighting the good fight for us gals.
I am now DVR'ing each of them and watching at night. Oh, wow I forgot Claudia Jean!!! And Danny Kincannon. No, Viva, you did not miss anything...
Maybe it's West Wing's fault I am having trouble sleeping.
I am waiting to be called in to work at the pleasure of the President.
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