Social Faux Pas?

Since I was old enough to reach the countertops, my mom has always told me to take small portions of food to save for other people who may have not had a chance to eat yet. This was the standard rule whether in my home of four children, two parents, two birds, one dog and one cat, or at any social gathering.

Lately I’ve encountered several people who clearly don’t know the rule. Have they changed? Did I miss the memo about encouraged selfishness and looking out for number one?

Another rule, which I could have possibly created on my own, is that one doesn’t take food, specifically prepared for a meeting, before the participants of the meeting have eaten first.

I organize several meetings and classes at work. Many of them are catered either for breakfast or lunch. Yesterday I picked up a delectable selection of breakfast goodies for a law enforcement class. I delivered them to the classroom and made sure everything that would be needed in order to devour a goody was provided. I did not take one of the goodies, though I hadn’t had breakfast and I was quite hungry.

A few minutes later, an administrative assistant who helped make the coffee for the class decided she wanted a hot, sugary goody, and she was going to go get one even though she’d already had a breakfast burrito and the class hadn’t had a chance to touch the food yet.

Even worse, she wanted me to go into the classroom, while the instructor was teaching, and grab her one! I got out of it temporarily by using the excuse that I’d look like a pig if I grabbed two donuts, one for me and one for her. So then she suggested she would top off the coffee, I could go in the room with her, we could both grab a donut, and no one would be the wiser.

While this still goes against my rule, the idea appealed to my biting hunger pains. So I agreed. It went as planned; she topped off the coffee, we grabbed our donuts and fled. While she pranced out of the door, happy she’d achieved her goal; I left the room hovering over the donut hoping no one would see the social faux pas I had just committed.

The donut was perfect. Gooey warmness on the inside, while slightly crispy on the outside with sugary glaze drizzled across the top. I couldn’t enjoy it though; I couldn’t enjoy it with what I had just done. I kept wondering what 25 police officers, who hadn’t had a chance to select one for themselves, would think of me. Who gave me the right to have the choice pick?

I finished my donut, licked my fingers so as not to waste any sugary goodness, and began my day’s work. I probably won’t do it again because I can’t stand the constant guilt, but is anyone else concerned with such things?

What kind of social faux pas have you committed?

Snow!!!

These are my pictures from the glorious Easter Eve Snow Day - one of the most fun days I've had. Sheldon and I slept in, watched snow falling, watched cartoons, watched snow falling, went to Panera Bread for lunch and ate yummy soup, watched snow falling, went to the movies, watched snow falling, built a snowman, watched snow falling, went to church, and watched snow falling! And it's still falling....it's been 10 hours, and it's still falling!

Proof:

Biker-World Initiation

Peeking through the plexi-glass face shield of my helmet I see bikers littered throughout the parking lot. Bodies covered from head to toe in leather and tattoos, one hand busy smoking a cigarette while the other hand holds a cold cup of brew. Laughter, loud pipes and rock music fill the background.

Sheldon and I ride up on our hog, ok, well it's a Honda, but I think it's pretty cool. Eyes follow us until we park our bike. "Who are these new people," they wonder. I imagine myself hopping off the back of the bike with quick and precise movements, like a cat, and when I take off my helmet my blonde locks flow out of my helmet bouncing off the back of my jacket.

Reality check - I got off the bike early, before Sheldon parked it, and I hopped on one leg to avoid getting the other leg stuck on the back rest. Sheldon took off to park on the other side of the parking lot, so I'm chasing after him with my big helmet wobbling around on my head. When I catch up to him, we take off our helmets and our hair is matted to our heads. No flowing locks dancing in the wind, just sweaty bangs stuck to my forehead. This is why people where doo-rags, I think to myself.

We uncomfortably walk through the crowd of bikers and scantily-clad women through the front parking lot of the famed restaurant, Hooters. I never thought I'd set foot in a Hooters restaurant in my life, but Biker's Night was too tempting. We had to see what it was about.

Sheldon and I peruse the parking lot and check out all the bikes. There's everything from custom choppers to stock sport bikes (metric bikes is the term to use in BikerWorld). Tricked out bikes had "ghost" paintings of skulls within the flame paint job of the bike, various colored lights to bring out the paint job of the bike in the dark, and custom pipes that would rattle a house's foundation.

After browsing the bike lot, we stepped through the front door. We were in. A girl in daisy-duke spandex and a tight tank top took us to our table, where another girl in short shorts and a revealing tank top waited on us. After the initial shock of the employee uniforms I enjoyed the surroundings.

Everything was really laid back, the waitstaff was actually really attentive to all of our dining needs, and the manager asked us twice if we enjoyed the food and if everything was OK. I'll have to admit, the wings were actually pretty good. And so were the curly fries. And so was the hamburger. Sheldon and I split everything we ordered, so we didn't bottom out the bike on the way out. :)

All and all, the experience was a fun one. I would definitely go again, but probably just during bike night. Maybe next time I'll be donning more leather and I'll work on perfecting the back bike seat exit.

Freedom of the Road

Since I was about 14, I've been intrigued with motorcycles. The loud rumbling sound of the pipes, the shiny chrome sparkling in sunlight, the feeling of my hair dancing in the wind. I've ridden on the back of Harleys with friends and even braved the occasional dirt bike. I have toy motorcycle models littered about my house and I've had an expensive Harley-Davidson leather jacket hanging in my closet since I was 16.

I took the motorcycle safety course when I was 17 and got the special little "M" class on my drivers license. I've collected Harley-Davidson t-shirts from Fairbanks, Alaska all the way to Tijuana, Mexico.

One of my favorite motorcycle ads is below. The small caption in the bottom left-hand corner, which you probably can't read, says: "There it is: road, sky, elbowroom. Plum for the picking behind the handlebar of your own H-D motorcycle. Hair dancing in the wind. The roar of the engine drowning out the opinions of the world."

This ad hangs in my little grey cubicle at work. It used to remind me that one day I, too, would own a motorcycle. Today it reminds me that I only have eight hours separating me from my motorcycle!!

We did it! Sheldon and I took the plunge and bought a motorcycle. It's a Honda, which is not a Harley, but I enjoy it just the same. Plus it probably rides smoother than a Harley anyway.

Open road, here we come!