Saturday, October 29, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
What the Yahoo! "Top Ten Searches of the Day" List Says About the Economy . . .
When we were living in England the entire World financial system nearly fell apart. You know what I'm talking about. And, on average, recessions happen once every four years--give or take about six months. PLUS, economists generally can't tell you we're in a recession until we've been there a few months. Here's what I do know: You can tell a lot about what people are really concerned about by checking out the Top Ten Searches on Yahoo! These days, the searches are nothing compared to what they were in 2008. Other than that, I don't think I'm permitted to make any more observations about the economy outside of the confines of my office. All I'm gonna do is list today's top ten and let you interpret this as you please:
10. Stock-market news
9. Student Loan Forgiveness
8. Health-Care plans
7. Kaitlin Olson
6. Chelsea Clinton
5. Mark Wahlberg
4. Tara Reid
3. Terrell Owens
. . . we're getting in deep here . . .
2. Sister Wives baby
AND, lastly, the number one search of the day . . . it's coming . . . are you ready????
Keep going down . . .
Yep, keep going down . . .
This is in lieu of a commercial break . . .
The number one search of Thursday, October 27th, 2011 was
JACK THE CAT
In case you're wondering why, here's the article:
http://www.foxnews.com/travel/2011/10/27/jack-cat-found-at-jfk/
That's profound . . .
10. Stock-market news
9. Student Loan Forgiveness
8. Health-Care plans
7. Kaitlin Olson
6. Chelsea Clinton
5. Mark Wahlberg
4. Tara Reid
3. Terrell Owens
. . . we're getting in deep here . . .
2. Sister Wives baby
AND, lastly, the number one search of the day . . . it's coming . . . are you ready????
Keep going down . . .
Yep, keep going down . . .
This is in lieu of a commercial break . . .
The number one search of Thursday, October 27th, 2011 was
JACK THE CAT
In case you're wondering why, here's the article:
http://www.foxnews.com/travel/2011/10/27/jack-cat-found-at-jfk/
That's profound . . .
Chocolate. But he's dipping abanana in it. So it's okay.
This message was sent using the Picture and Video Messaging service from Verizon Wireless!
To learn how you can snap pictures and capture videos with your wireless phone visit www.verizonwireless.com/picture.
Note: To play video messages sent to email, QuickTime� 6.5 or higher is required.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
FWD:How my wild child rides. I just want to get out of the store in one piece
EXPANSION ON "MY MOTIVATION"
Ahhhhhhhh, so my kid is 3.5 years old. As it turns out, this is worse than the terrible twos. At least during the terrible twos he was only having temper tantrums. I could deal with those and divert attention all day long. Now he's like a physically-able monkey with a super processor brain who comes up with crazy ideas, but lacks the capacity (just yet) to foresee consequences.
Examples:
Saturday night Jeremy was out with the boys, no doubt drunk, relishing in the glory of the past, and contemplating getting the old band back together for some recording time in the studio . . . I decided Liam and I would have a little slumber party with the Adam Sandler movie "Bedtime Stories," popcorn, soda and candy, of course. Bedtime is usually 8 pm or 8:30 pm. This was a special treat.
In the movie, these two kids are seen shaving their faces. There's some dialogue between that tall British sex-addict guy and Adam Sandler about the fact that the blades have been removed. My brain only processed this info as part of the story line.
20 to 30 minutes later, Liam says "I'm going to go potty." He gets up, walks off, I see the bedroom light turn on through the atrium doors. He's gone longer than he should be. I go to check on things. I find him on his stepping stool at Daddy's sink. He has a goatee of blood dripping rapidly down his chin, a scared look on his face, and a plastic toy in his hand applying pressure in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
My response (aloud of course): SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! Then my inner monologue told me to "Calm down, he's only bleeding from the mouth, he will live, and if you panic you will be of no help to him."
As it turns out, he had shaved with Daddy's Mach 4 razor. He didn't shave but one little spot. His technique was clearly off. We decided together that it would be best to wait until big like Daddy to try it again.
In the end, I looked like an unfit mother when I walked him into CVS at 11 pm on Saturday night with a bleeding mouth and he ran off and I couldn't find him.
Sunday he learned to climb onto the kitchen counter without any assistance.
Monday morning I was an hour and a half late to work because I couldn't find my keys. In my frustration, I called Jeremy and insisted that he come home to help me. I got mad at him for yawning loudly in my ear when we were on the phone. I had to email my client associate to tell her I was running late, but expecting clients--please insert some more swear words here as I hunt for my keys . . . I looked in the pantry, toy boxes, dresser drawers, under clothes, jeans pockets, outside, all doors to the house. Liam has an airplane that Elmo drives/flies around the house. Liam can sit on it and scoot around. He's outgrown it really, but still likes it. Elmo's airplane has a sticker on it (thank God it wasn't removed when he got the thing) that reads "Convenient Underseat Storage." I found my keys.
And now here I am at 1:30 am. I'm developing sleeping problems from stress, too much caffeine, and whatever else. And, I've caught everyone up to speed. I've probably typed too many words.
Examples:
Saturday night Jeremy was out with the boys, no doubt drunk, relishing in the glory of the past, and contemplating getting the old band back together for some recording time in the studio . . . I decided Liam and I would have a little slumber party with the Adam Sandler movie "Bedtime Stories," popcorn, soda and candy, of course. Bedtime is usually 8 pm or 8:30 pm. This was a special treat.
In the movie, these two kids are seen shaving their faces. There's some dialogue between that tall British sex-addict guy and Adam Sandler about the fact that the blades have been removed. My brain only processed this info as part of the story line.
20 to 30 minutes later, Liam says "I'm going to go potty." He gets up, walks off, I see the bedroom light turn on through the atrium doors. He's gone longer than he should be. I go to check on things. I find him on his stepping stool at Daddy's sink. He has a goatee of blood dripping rapidly down his chin, a scared look on his face, and a plastic toy in his hand applying pressure in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
My response (aloud of course): SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! Then my inner monologue told me to "Calm down, he's only bleeding from the mouth, he will live, and if you panic you will be of no help to him."
As it turns out, he had shaved with Daddy's Mach 4 razor. He didn't shave but one little spot. His technique was clearly off. We decided together that it would be best to wait until big like Daddy to try it again.
In the end, I looked like an unfit mother when I walked him into CVS at 11 pm on Saturday night with a bleeding mouth and he ran off and I couldn't find him.
Sunday he learned to climb onto the kitchen counter without any assistance.
Monday morning I was an hour and a half late to work because I couldn't find my keys. In my frustration, I called Jeremy and insisted that he come home to help me. I got mad at him for yawning loudly in my ear when we were on the phone. I had to email my client associate to tell her I was running late, but expecting clients--please insert some more swear words here as I hunt for my keys . . . I looked in the pantry, toy boxes, dresser drawers, under clothes, jeans pockets, outside, all doors to the house. Liam has an airplane that Elmo drives/flies around the house. Liam can sit on it and scoot around. He's outgrown it really, but still likes it. Elmo's airplane has a sticker on it (thank God it wasn't removed when he got the thing) that reads "Convenient Underseat Storage." I found my keys.
And now here I am at 1:30 am. I'm developing sleeping problems from stress, too much caffeine, and whatever else. And, I've caught everyone up to speed. I've probably typed too many words.
First Entry--Requesting Your Undying Support
BLOGGING--WHAT IT WAS FOR ME BEFORE
So, obviously my last blog didn't work out. Secretly, I wanted it to be a collaboration with my husband and I eventually burnt myself out trying to keep up with clever posts and lots of photo uploads. Secretly, it wasn't a secret. I would give him assignments--ask him to blog his take on different things that we did. He hated it. Clearly this was not a project on which we would successfully collaborate . . . fortunately we're really good at parenting together!
BLOGGING--WHAT IT WILL BE FOR ME NOW
This blog will be mine, and mine alone. I will be responsible for updating posts. I can't give Jeremy any assignments, which I really think will save me from suffering the disappointment when he doesn't post any entries. It will be a diary. If I can catch something on the camera, I will try to post it on here. But, for the most part I'm afraid this will be a blog for readers more than it will be a picture book.
BLOGGING--WHAT IT WON'T BE FOR ME NOW
I know the title is "Mommy, Financial Advisor." This is a play on the two hats I wear: 1) mother and 2) my official title per my business card. I am Mommy. I am a Financial Advisor. I will not be providing financial advice to mommies. If you want financial advice, you'll have to send me a message. I'll reply from my email address at work. I am an advisor at one of the big wire houses--you'll probably be able to guess. However, as any other advisor knows, the handcuffs are on. We can't advertise or provide advice on the internet without special permission.
MY MOTIVATION TO DO THIS: MY THREE YEAR OLD TRIED TO SHAVE AND HID MY KEYS IN ELMO'S AIRPLANE
I work a lot. I work more than 40 hours a week, by a long shot. My husband also works, and decided to go back to school full time. We see each other two to three nights a week. When I became a financial advisor, my family's advisor "recruited" me. He did not tell me it would be a sales job. He did not tell me I would have to meet everyone on this blue and green planet who has money. I thought "I can manage money." Then I started working and had to find people with the balls to let me manage their money!
I'm not doing this to provide parenting advice or financial advice. What I write will not be perfect. I'm doing it quickly. There will be errors. The decisions I make are not perfect, but are the best decisions I can make at that moment. I am not perfect, but I am honest. I don't know if anyone will ever follow this. If I do something that offends you, feel free to criticize--just don't be offended a second time if I clearly don't take your advice. We probably just have different parenting styles.
I want to chronicle my life juggling motherhood with my career. I hope it's entertaining. Here goes nothin'.
So, obviously my last blog didn't work out. Secretly, I wanted it to be a collaboration with my husband and I eventually burnt myself out trying to keep up with clever posts and lots of photo uploads. Secretly, it wasn't a secret. I would give him assignments--ask him to blog his take on different things that we did. He hated it. Clearly this was not a project on which we would successfully collaborate . . . fortunately we're really good at parenting together!
BLOGGING--WHAT IT WILL BE FOR ME NOW
This blog will be mine, and mine alone. I will be responsible for updating posts. I can't give Jeremy any assignments, which I really think will save me from suffering the disappointment when he doesn't post any entries. It will be a diary. If I can catch something on the camera, I will try to post it on here. But, for the most part I'm afraid this will be a blog for readers more than it will be a picture book.
BLOGGING--WHAT IT WON'T BE FOR ME NOW
I know the title is "Mommy, Financial Advisor." This is a play on the two hats I wear: 1) mother and 2) my official title per my business card. I am Mommy. I am a Financial Advisor. I will not be providing financial advice to mommies. If you want financial advice, you'll have to send me a message. I'll reply from my email address at work. I am an advisor at one of the big wire houses--you'll probably be able to guess. However, as any other advisor knows, the handcuffs are on. We can't advertise or provide advice on the internet without special permission.
MY MOTIVATION TO DO THIS: MY THREE YEAR OLD TRIED TO SHAVE AND HID MY KEYS IN ELMO'S AIRPLANE
I work a lot. I work more than 40 hours a week, by a long shot. My husband also works, and decided to go back to school full time. We see each other two to three nights a week. When I became a financial advisor, my family's advisor "recruited" me. He did not tell me it would be a sales job. He did not tell me I would have to meet everyone on this blue and green planet who has money. I thought "I can manage money." Then I started working and had to find people with the balls to let me manage their money!
I'm not doing this to provide parenting advice or financial advice. What I write will not be perfect. I'm doing it quickly. There will be errors. The decisions I make are not perfect, but are the best decisions I can make at that moment. I am not perfect, but I am honest. I don't know if anyone will ever follow this. If I do something that offends you, feel free to criticize--just don't be offended a second time if I clearly don't take your advice. We probably just have different parenting styles.
I want to chronicle my life juggling motherhood with my career. I hope it's entertaining. Here goes nothin'.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)