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Recently we purchased a new Samsung refrigerator with French doors. Pleased with the sale price, I was ecstatic. Finally, I’ll have additional room in my refrigerator. Allow me to correct that statement. What I should say is I WILL HAVE ADDITIONAL ROOM IF SEARS EVER DELIVERS IT!

Delivery was scheduled for Friday, July 8, 2011 between the hours (East Coast time) of 1:30 – 3:30pm. Phone calls were received confirming this delivery schedule. On one call, they phoned the house at 6:47AM!

Getting the old refrigerator emptied, I had everything ready to simply place the freezer items in the freezer section — all frozen items were in plastic bags, organized for the storage.

Tick. Tock. Tick Tock -Tock! The two-hour window passed. Knowing we had dinner reservations at 6pm to celebrate my husband’s birthday, I chose to phone the Sears delivery person. Thank goodness for caller ID! At 4:15, I left a message. He returned it within 15 minutes. Seems the truck had a flat tire. They would be delayed. To quote a new cliché, “Surprise. Surprise!” The true question is why didn’t these unprofessional delivery people make a phone call?

“We need to reschedule for Saturday.” I said.

Duh. The phone was silent!

I phoned the salesman at the local Sears store. He assisted, phoning me again to tell me we would need to reschedule. My diplomatic arrogance kicked in.

To make a long story short, the new scheduled date was scheduled for Sunday, July 10, 2011 at 7-9am, that is — according to the supervisor for delivery. I told him I would accept that time, but they better not be one minute late! Also, I demanded a $69 credit on my account for the delivery charge and I wanted free delivery now. Mission accomplished! Also, the supervisor said he would give me a $100 gift card!

Today, Saturday July 9 I get a phone call from Sears — another automated phone call where they choose to speak with a foreign accent — ‘the delivery is scheduled for Sunday at 1:30-3:30pm.”

Duh. What part of customer service doesn’t Sears understand?

Stay tuned later to see what time Sears decides to deliver the new fridge. Monday, I will be at the store — a displeased with customer service customer who will have her say! Yes, I’ll be diplomatic – but I think they know I am not a woman who gives in, and I will achieve something else, complimentary of Sears! My time is valuable too!

All it took to please me was a simple and courteous phone call stating, “Hey. We’ve had a flat tire and will be delayed.” There’s no excuse for not phoning to let the customer know. It is a courtesy ALL CUSTOMERS deserve! Now, I’ve discovered Sears has a major communication problem. According to the automated system, the 1:30 – 3:30 time frame on Sunday was scheduled. I suppose the supervisor miscommunicated too.

Next time – I’ll buy my appliances at a different store. Sears SUCKS with their customer service and communication skills! Let’s don’t even discuss their automated service system. It is the pits.

While I am pleased to live in the land of the free, where we Americans can speak our minds, I am still a bit perplexed about the Casey Anthony trial. Like the majority of Americans, I am disappointed in our judicial system and how 12 jurors could reach a decision of not guilty.  Yes, I did watch the trial; however, we must recognize what we saw on television was the edited version of the trial. The media has the tendency to show “If it bleeds…it leads.”

I consider myself a professional journalist, but I do weigh the evidence, recognizing that there were many ‘gray areas’ in this trial.

Now, Americans are outraged. Some are reportedly threatening the Anthony family. I think we should all move on, remembering the beautiful child, Caylee Marie Anthony, while simply doing our best to forget Casey Marie Anthony — the stone faced, pout lip  who showed her true colors on the day of the sentencing.

Many of us will compare this trial to the O. J. Simpson trial; however, we must remember, O. J. is now in prison, and I truly believe Casey Anthony will do something in the near future to show her true colors. Let us hope she never has another child. Let us hope she doesn’t make lots of money over the events, and let us hope that Casey learns a valuable lesson.

Let us move on and treat our children with love and respect. In the court of public opinion Casey was convicted before all the evidence was revealed; nevertheless, the 12 jurors decided she was not guilty. It is unfortunate that lately our judicial system is a bit shady, but this is America. The land of the free where we can voice our opinions. Let us not threaten and be ugly. It is time to move on — to forget Casey Anthony. Good bye, and good riddance!

Happy Fourth of July!  Those wishes have started the rebuttal arguments at the Casey Anthony trial. What a way for jurors to celebrate our independence.

Let us all hope their decision is the right decision that only they can make. The media, along with social networks all have her convicted. Convicted of what is the question.

Does this ‘young, attractive’ woman…excuse me…didn’t Jose Baez refer to her as a ‘slut’ — does she deserve the death penalty?

Most of you who know me know my thoughts on this trial. I do believe — with my entire soul — Casey Anthony is guilty and she deserves the death penalty.

Many of my friends have issues with that statement. “She was such a young mother… She didn’t know what she was doing…” My thoughts — she made the decision to give birth to precious Caylee. If she did not want the responsibility, I feel confident Cindy Anthony would’ve been happy to care for her.

Please…there are many young women who become young mothers. I was a mother at 20 and never did I mistreat my child. OK, the courts did not prove that Caylee was abused or neglected…

In my opinion – what convicted her is the fact that for 31 days Caylee was missing and Casey chose to keep that fact to herself. She is such a good liar. Maybe now her lies will finally catch up with her and she will spend the rest of her life in jail. I doubt she gets the death penalty. Most women do not.

Casey, it’s time for you to turn on the water works and let your face show your agony – or — is it fear? She appears to be a decent actress. She can cry on cue – when needed, and what is it with that pursed, pouty lip of hers?

Happy Fourth of July. I certainly hope the jurors have truly paid attention to this case and make the right (and only) decision — guilty! Guilty! Guilty!!!!!

Tomorrow is a day of celebration for the United States of America — Happy 4th of July. It will be a day of partying and fun for all. To those reading this, I wish you all a Happy 4th of July.

This household will celebrate quietly with friends while we listen to the fireworks from — shall I say it — inconsiderate neighbors who proceed to pop their fireworks in my yard.

I’ve learned to keep quiet about these situations and pick my own battles. Nevertheless, to those who do choose to play with fireworks, please consider Charleston, SC is under a drought and it is much too hot!

Shoot your fireworks in your yard, and have a water hose ready, just in case.

Happy July Fourth!

If you read my posts on this blog, you will note I am addicted to current events and the latest ‘news updates.’

This week, while writing, I have been listening to TruTV and the Casey Anthony Trial. Looking at her, with her puffed up lips, smirks, and laughter – occasionally, I can’t help being a bit curious as to what is on her mind. At times, she sits writing on legal pads. Other times, her face is tight, with that dreadful lip pouting.

Watching her family sitting together, testifying LOTS, I recognize the dysfunctions of a family that probably will never be healed. I did not buy into the testimony of Cindy Anthony and her computer skills. I did not buy into the testimony of George either.  Who cares if he had an affair with “River Cruz?” What is significant is how desperate this family appears to be to ‘save Casey.’

I have followed this story since the beginning. I saw the compelling pictures of Caley while thinking ‘what a gorgeous little girl. How can a mother not come forward and admit that her daughter is missing? And — how can a mother go out and party with friends, shopping, and other outings when she knows the real truth about her daughter?’

This scenario is so unbelievable. Only Casey knows the truth and I suspect she knows she did something tragic to her daughter.

Caley was such a beautiful child — with piercing eyes and a beautiful face. Her life was cut so short. Is it true that Casey did not want to be a mom? Yes, motherhood is demanding and it is certainly different from babysitting, but Casey had the support of grandparents who adored Caley.

The truth will never be revealed — unless Casey takes the witness stand. I certainly hope she decides to step onto the witness stand and I hope the prosecutors truly rip her to shreds. Let us see her cry and let her tell us in her words exactly what happened to Caley.

The more I think about this story, the angrier I get at Casey. I simply do not understand how a mother can be such a monster. Years ago, South Carolina had a monster like Casey — Susan Smith. At least she finally came forward and admitted her guilt. Why can’t Casey Anthony?

Casey, if you are reading this, shame on you for all that you have done. The evidence revealed so far speaks for itself and if I was a member of the jury, I would not buckle one inch. I’d find you guilty and I would agree to the death penalty. You took the life of a precious child. May you never see the beauty of sunshine or freedom again!

I’m in an online writers group that is most supportive and helpful. This week one of the subjects is Elevator, and so here I go with a brief, true story:

“Phillip, just stay on the elevator sweetie. Don’t step off.
It will come back down and I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

Listening to the squeaky voice of my five-year-old screaming,
“Mommy…Mommy! Help me Mommy!”  My heart broke. Impatiently I waited for
the elevator to return with my child inside. What if someone takes him, I
thought. God, what if I never see my child again.

The morning was filled with stress. Arriving early at the
Medical University of South Carolina, Phillip complained. He was hungry. He
wanted Mickey Mouse. He wanted to go back home to watch cartoons and ride his
bike. He could not understand why he couldn’t eat breakfast before going to the
hospital.

 “Sweetie, you can’t have anything by mouth before the test.
As soon as the tests are done, we’ll get you the best meal in Charleston,” I
promised.

“I only want my Cheerios. I have them every morning, Mommy.
I’m hungry!” He stomped his foot. This was to be a morning to remember,
I thought.

Just how had I let his hand slip from mine while stepping
into the elevator? The lady standing behind me had rushed ahead of us breaking
our hands apart.

“I’m late,” she said, as if she was apologizing. When she
stepped in front of me, her movement had broken my son and I clutching our
hands and when the doors started to close with my hand outstretched into the
elevator, with a quick impulse I pulled it back just as the doors closed with
my precious son inside. Alone. Without his mother. A small five-year-old
trapped inside an elevator with strangers. What if the elevator breaks? What
if he isn’t inside when it returns to this floor? What if he is kidnapped like
the Walsh kid?

 Tears slipped down my face. Earlier in the week I’d heard
about the Walsh kidnapping and I couldn’t understand it. Now, my eyes were open
wide, with a new understanding of how quickly something can happen. Right in
the blink of an eye a child can disappear.

“Please God, let my son be OK.”

I heard the ringing of the elevator bell. When the door
opened I prayed another silent prayer anticipating what I would do If my son
was not inside. The doors opened. I saw a small blonde boy wearing a blue
Charleston T-shirt and khaki pants. “Phillip,” I screamed rushing inside, not
caring about who was around. I scooped him into my arms. “Mommy. It’s Ok. You
said to stay on the elevator.”

He grabbed my hand and I squeezed his tightly. “Let’s not get
lost again,” I said. “We have to get your breakfast and we have to go home to
Mickey Mouse.

Phillip tilted his head in my direction, casting that dimpled
grin at me. “I knew you’d be here Mommy and I knew I’d be OK.”

Two hours later, we rushed home to find Mickey Mouse. The
diagnosis had gone well, as expected. I was thankful the horrible, dreary
morning of gloom had broken into a beautiful sunshiny day with my precious son.

I suppose it was not by choice, but truly the embarrassment he brought to himself and others. I was getting just a bit sick of hearing about Anthony Weiner and his — dare I say it — ‘weiner pride.’

Today, in my opinion only, he appeared a bit arrogant when he resigned. In the background I could hear shouts — some of them not exactly mentionable on this blog, due to the embarrassment. At first I thought I was listening to a reality TV show, or another arrogant newscaster broadcasting the latest ‘weiner reports.’

I find it interesting that “Weiner” would not resign until today. Didn’t his wife return home from a trip with Hillary Clinton only a few days, or hours ago? Just what made Anthony Weiner decide it was best to resign? The power of the media? I think not. The power of the people? Not. Political influence? Pressure from the women who reportedly received text messages, including a ‘porn star?’ NOT!

Perhaps Tiger Woods phoned him — persuading him to step down. NOT! Maybe his wife arrived home and they had a serious conversation! Women are strong-minded and very persuasive — when we need to be, and this is a conversation most wives will not tolerate, not to mention the embarrassment and humiliation!

What is it with these politicians and publicity seekers? Do they think they are so special that they can do ANYTHING and no one will question their actions? Or, could it be that their brains are not located within their brain cells and heads, but within a portion of their anatomy?

Regardless, I do not feel sorry for Anthony Weiner, after all his last name is Weiner for a reason. And who cares about the hackling in the background while he was speaking. The questions were annoying – almost vulgar. I could not help wondering just what is happening within our world when freedom of speech paints such an ugly, disgusting portrait of the current events and issues. I admit, I failed to listen to the remainder of his resignation speech. I’d had enough after hearing one vulgar hacker asking inquiring questions. Sorry, but I simply do not care!

As for Anthony Weiner? I hope he goes away — sailing off to a remote island where he can get therapy – if such an island exists. Or, maybe he should just become “Mr. Mom” after the new baby arrives. I am curious about his parenting skills, and I hope his wife will do the right thing for herself and her child. After all, I know many successful “Single Moms” and their children are some of the most amazing kids I’ve ever met.

Goodbye Anthony Weiner. I suppose your next media report will be as a center fold. Who cares — Anthony Weiner is — shall I say it — ah heck, never mind. I’ve got better things to do!

Today was the day…the day for weigh-in at Weight Watchers. This week has been a crazy week, driving to North Carolina to visit a dear friend — in fact, my best of the best friend! Unfortunately, she had to work, so I found myself simply relaxing — something that I rarely do! I kept telling myself I needed to walk, but it was simply much too hot, so I ate carefully and with much health in mind.

Yesterday, I drove home. While driving, I read the billboards and listened to music, finding myself singing my heart out along the highways. I am certain many people laughed as I drove past them, rocking and singing, but who cares. I’ll never see them again and I found ‘my time’ so relaxing. One billboard caught my eyes so I took the next exit…stopping at Dairy Queen to ‘treat myself’ to a milkshake.

This morning, I dreaded the weigh in, knowing that I had been a naughty little girl yesterday — by treating myself, but sometimes we must do something just for the sheer naughtiness! Rejoice! Minus 2.8 pounds this week. RING. RING. RING. FIREWORKS…JUMP FOR JOY, and then walk into the meeting room with my dignity again!

To date I have lost 16.4 pounds! Today, I got another 5-star sticker. I feel like a little kid passing the spelling bee…all I need now is my smiley face! OK…I admit it…I’m still a kid…never will I age gracefully. No. Not me. I cherish every one of these gold stars, and I plan to collect many…many more! If ever you’ve doubted the ability to lose weight — go to a Weight Watchers meeting and give it a chance. After all — IF I can do it — so can YOU! I confess, I’ve always known I was a ‘star’ and now, I have three gold stars to prove it!

Approximately two, perhaps three, years ago I bought a new vacuum. The latest and greatest Oreck vacuum – designed for ease and simplicity during household chores. For a few months, it worked beautifully — then, the drama started! A clog that would not clear. I took it to my local Oreck dealership. Repairs needed to be made. Apparently it was more than a clog. And so the drama truly begins.

When I got it home, I vacuumed, only to have the beater brush stop! Back to the shop. Again. And again. And again. Each time, the repairs were different, finally needing a new ‘housing?’ Don’t ask me. I know how to run a vacuum cleaner — not repair it!

This scenario continued for over one year. By now, the vacuum cleaner was in the shop more than at home. Perhaps this vacuum doesn’t like me, I thought. Who cares…it’s a vacuum cleaner!

Finally, I filed a complaint. The owner of the shop reviewed my ‘repair visits.’ He was astonished! He decided to replace this vacuum with a newer unit.

I’m pleased to say, I’ve had this vacuum for close to a year now and it has worked well — well, until two weeks ago. The one thing I can say about Oreck is — they stand behind their product and they treat customers with respect.

Two weeks ago, I drove the vacuum to the shop. Since we have become accustomed to these rides — vacuum cleaner sitting on the passenger side, I was tempted to buckle its seat belt! After all, we have become close — like a teenager and mother rebelling and disagreeing each time we meet! Apparently, my dear sweet vacuum cleaner developed a clog within the bag. I had checked the bag when it stopped working — making certain it did not need to be changed.  The bag wasn’t anywhere near the full line and so there my precious vacuum goes, vacuuming, but sucking the ingredients of carpet lint into the vacuum, then coughing it out again. Why me, I thought? Within twenty-four-hours, this repair was completed and my vacuum cleaner and I were happily reunited.

Yesterday, while vacuuming I lifted the vacuum cleaner by the handle — isn’t a handle designed for a consumer to lift it??? Carrying it to my office — to vacuum — I heard a popping noise. I glanced down. The handle had separated from the vacuum cleaner.

No, I thought. This cannot be happening. This vacuum doesn’t like me. Perhaps I am allergic to household cleaning and vacuuming. Whatever did I do to deserve vacuum cleaners that hate me. Are they possessed???

Back to Oreck again. By now, the sales staff almost know me intimately! When I showed Richard, the salesperson, my vacuum he and I broke into laughter when I responded that I had come to the conclusion that housework, vacuuming and I do not agree. Maybe I’ll hire someone to come vacuum for me and let them use their personal vacuum cleaner — not mine!

While it is true, I do like a clean home,  I am tired of fighting with the vacuum cleaner and losing! Now, the score is vacuum cleaner — three — and I am the LOSER! Yes, it’s true — vacuum cleaners and I do not agree. Perhaps I’ll give it up and go to the beach!

Today is June 11, 2011. I have been on Weight Watchers for over three months now, losing 13.6 pounds. It is so exciting to see the weight loss, to open the closet and try on clothes I haven’t been able to wear before. Many still have tags on them. I suppose opening my closet, finding these clothes and trying them on is like going shopping and trying on a smaller size, only the money spent was years ago.
Originally, I anticipated losing 20 pounds by the third month; however, that just isn’t realistic — at least not for me! Many of my friends are encouraging me, telling me how great I am looking, but for me, it isn’t the time to expect others to notice my weight loss.

Weight Watchers has become a part of my life now – just like checking my e-mail, doing household chores, laundry and other demands, although Weight Watchers is not demanding. I attend my meetings on Thursday morning with a new excitement. Totally changed from the traumatic first day when my heart palpitated and I was so humiliated to hop on the scales. With each weight loss, I am happy to share, and there have been two times when I have admitted a slight weight gain. All of this goes with the territory. Weight Watchers is a new way of life for me…just like awakening early in the morning, taking a brisk 5K walk with my pups and meeting the demands of a busy life. I have managed to schedule time for me…Weight Watchers…this I do for me! Feels so good!