The Rose Report – The Early Years

Dan and I were talking this weekend about annoying little kids at Target, and the crying that was peircing my head like a knife. He reminded me that I was probably like that one day, and then reminded me of a certain incident my mom had told him about from my childhood.

The first story was a flight my mom and myself took to Miami to go visit my grandparents when I was like 4 or 5. We were approaching Miami, and there was a kid in another seat that looked out the window. He asked his mom if that was Miami he saw out the window. His mother told him it was… My mom apparently looked over and saw me crying. She asked me what was wrong, and I looked at her and said, “But Mom, I thought it was My Ami.” I guess I thought the whole city was mine.

Along those same lines, we were visiting Mt. Rushmore, or as I called them… The Rock Men. We were driving through the mountains and approaching the Rock Men. Again, my mom looked back and saw me crying… Apparently, I must have done that a lot as a kid. She asked me what was wrong. I had been seeing glimpses of them through the trees as we were driving. I looked up at my mom, and said, “I thought we were going to stop and look at them.”

Lastly… I was being babysat by my godparent’s daughters one day. I had been wandering around, and, being the nosy child, ended up it the parents room. My godmother would wear wigs, and she had one of those styrofoam heads that she put the wig on. Her daughters had drawn a face on the thing. I apparently came running out of the room screaming and crying. I had thought she had a decapitated head sitting on her dresser.

I guess that’s enough embarassment from my childhood for now… I dare you to share some of your funnier and embarassing childhood memories with us!

The Rose Report: What’s That Word?

Have you ever had a day where you see a word, a word that you see everyday, but for some reason this particular day it doesn’t come across that way? This happens to me every so often… but this past weekend, this was really bad. One of those stories, that if you just can’t laugh at yourself, then what’s the point? I figured you could all use another laugh at my expense!

Anyway, I was driving home from the hockey game the other night, and drove by this carpet store… I saw the word carpet, but for some reason it registered as CarPet to me… So, I sat there trying to figure out for a minute or so what exactly a CarPet could be… I guess it must be like Hamm above.. A car shaped like an animal!

So, how ’bout it… any examples of this happening to others of you out there?

The Rose Report: What’s That Word?

Have you ever had a day where you see a word, a word that you see everyday, but for some reason this particular day it doesn’t come across that way? This happens to me every so often… but this past weekend, this was really bad. One of those stories, that if you just can’t laugh at yourself, then what’s the point? I figured you could all use another laugh at my expense!

Anyway, I was driving home from the hockey game the other night, and drove by this carpet store… I saw the word carpet, but for some reason it registered as CarPet to me… So, I sat there trying to figure out for a minute or so what exactly a CarPet could be… I guess it must be like Hamm above.. A car shaped like an animal!

So, how ’bout it… any examples of this happening to others of you out there?

The Rose Report: It’s Back!

I tried to start this feature in my old blog last year, but kind of forgot to continue it. But, it is back. I don’t guarantee a weekly feature like I originally promised though. I have brought the original one over to this blog for those interested.

Mind you, the most embarassing part of this story was my age… I was home for Winter break from college my freshman year, and my mom was out. A friend of her’s had called to let her know that she had got their tickets to go see Les Miserables.

So, I write up a message for my mom and leave it on the table. She gets home that evening, and reads my message. She comes looking for me, and asks, what is this message? I told her that her friend had called to tell her she had received their tickets for that musical… My mom starts laughing, “Oh, you mean Les Miserables?”

What did my message say? “Lame as a Robin!” This was before I knew much about musicals.

The Rose Report: It’s Back!

I tried to start this feature in my old blog last year, but kind of forgot to continue it. But, it is back. I don’t guarantee a weekly feature like I originally promised though. I have brought the original one over to this blog for those interested.

Mind you, the most embarassing part of this story was my age… I was home for Winter break from college my freshman year, and my mom was out. A friend of her’s had called to let her know that she had got their tickets to go see Les Miserables.

So, I write up a message for my mom and leave it on the table. She gets home that evening, and reads my message. She comes looking for me, and asks, what is this message? I told her that her friend had called to tell her she had received their tickets for that musical… My mom starts laughing, “Oh, you mean Les Miserables?”

What did my message say? “Lame as a Robin!” This was before I knew much about musicals.

The Rose Report: Why are there Fries in the Oven?

OK, so I am going to start a new weekly segment that will simply be called “Rose.” And anyone who has watched the Golden Girls will soon learn why that is the title.

So this story takes place about 4 years ago now, roughly a year after I have moved into my new condo (this is important). So, I decided to have a few former co-workers over one night for dinner and games. We ordered Pizza of course, but I think I made a veggie tray. So the night was going swimmingly, and we had just finished dinner, and a few games. One of my friends decided it was time for the “brief mind you” tour of my condo. So they looked at the bedroom, and the bathroom. I was sitting on the couch while they looked around. Next thing I knew, one of them was asking when I had had fries? I looked at them and told them, I haven’t ever made fries. She looked at me again and asked, “Then what are these fries in the oven from?” I came over to see what they were talking about, and sure enough there was a tray with a bunch of straggling little shriveled up fries on a tray in the oven. I looked at them and was like, “Well, I guess they must have been from the previous person living here.” They were all shocked and reminded me how long I had been living there. All that time, and I hadn’t once opened the oven? How did I eat? Did I not inspect the place? What? I just told them, “ I don’t cook, I had no reason to look in the oven did I?”

There is no telling, in the end, just how old those fries really were! Oops… oh well… Now I cook, (well mostly Dan does) and have a new oven, but I will never live down the fry incident! So I might as well let everyone get a good laugh out of it!