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A short rant…

I remember in elementary school that whenever a teacher needed something moved be it desk, chair, or kleenex box, they would always declare, “I need 3 strong boys to help me move this ______. Who’ll volunteer?” It was never hard to get those eager beavers…it meant you got out of class for a bit. I wanted to help, but being a girl restricted me, and I never quite understood that. Third grade boys? NOT the strongest. Well, even if they were “strong”, were they so much stronger than us girls at that age? I fumed every time it happened at the presumed female fragility…

Fast forward approximately 15 years…

We are moving offices at work. We have hired some new employees and have run out of space, so up and out we go to a larger suite. This has meant a lot of moving boxes, books, desks, computers…everything. And what held true in 3rd grade is still applicable now: No one lets me carry anything.

WTF?!?

Just a few seconds ago (which promted the post) this is what happened:

Employee1 (female): I need help moving this table out of my office.

Me: (overhearing the last part): OH, what do you need?

Employee1: Oh, I just needed some help with that table. Employee2 (male), employee3 (male), will you come move this for me?

Me (silently): GRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It may not seem like a big deal, but the other day, I had to fight people off to carry my own boxes. I finally gave up trying on moving day and just stayed out of the way. I offered to help move the server racks (50 lbs w/2 people), but was met with eyes full of fear that my weak arms would drop my share of the load. But for those of you that don’t know, Joe and I just moved my sister and her husband into a 3rd floor apartment in a historical building (narrow staircases, definitely no elevator)…sofas, beds, books, you name it. I think I can carry a silly little box of papers and a computer. There weren’t even any stairs!!! Sheesh

Perhaps I’m being harsh, but it’s just happened so many times…and perhaps there is just a fine line between chivalry and sexism.   How do you see this?

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…Joe and I are engaged! 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

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He proposed last Friday, February the 29th. (My mom commented on my leap day post about the appropriateness of the entry seeing that Joe and I decided to take the big leap later on that evening! haha) Joe had mentioned earlier in the month of February that he had thought about proposing on the 29th. When I got excited and said, “That would be awesome! What a cool, unique day!!” he replied with, “Oh, I guess I can’t now that you know. Oh well….”

So, I said I’d forget. (Like I’d forget! Pshhh.) And the month went on. Earlier in the week before the 29th, he asked if I wanted to go out that Friday, just the two of us for dinner. Sounds good. I love dates! Then a few days after that, he told me that he was going to drive and pick me up. Then tension mounts as my suspisions rise.

On the day of the 29th, I was so excited all day. I mean, I really didn’t know if it was going to happen so I didn’t want to get myself too happy, but I remember looking at my left ring finger thinking, “What if today is the last day …..” So I go home and get changed from my work clothes and wait. And wait. He’s really late. He had a study session for quals with his adviser that went really long. He finally calls and tells me he’s coming over and he’s dressed up. “How often do we go on dates? I just wanted to look nice.”, he says. Bump up that suspicion notch one more.

So we go out for dinner and it was really nice. The food was pretty good. We talked about some interesting stuff, and I think, just enjoyed spending some time together. Thinking back on it, I remember laughing…so thats a good thing.

Walking up to my front door, I could see in the cracks of my blinds and I saw a flame. “Why is my apartment on fire??”, I said. So, I grab my keys and go to the door. The blinds by the front door were also closed (and they are never closed because I leave them open for Koda) so I knew someone had been there. I open the front door and there were rose petals on the floor and little candles all over the dinning room table and through the living room.

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(Now, the next part may be slightly out of order because I was a little overwhelmed. ) As I’m looking around, Joe gets down on one knee and asks me to marry him. The he grabs Koda, holds up up, and says, “Koda has a present for you.” (My little kitty was so good because he came right over when we walked in!) The ring was on his collar. I told Joe, “Of course, I’ll marry you!” He put the ring on my finger, we kissed….then I cried and jumped up and down a little bit….

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….and that’s how it all happened.

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The scent of the Irish!

What is it with men and the soap ‘Irish Spring’? I was over at Joe’s house and took a peek in his bathroom shower. There were 3 Irish Spring products. (Two bars of soap and one shower gel container.) Knowing that there are 3 boys that share that bathroom, I can only assume that there is 1 product per person. I also know for a fact that my dad, much to my mom’s dislike, uses Irish Spring as well. (She says it has too strong of a smell.) So I ask you, what is it that is so wonderful about this soap? Did its makers come up with the best product ever? Was there some massive marketing campaign to men that I completely missed? Is it the cheapest soap on the market?

If you are a man (or know your mans soap usage) , I’d like to know if you too use Irish Spring and if so, what is its magical allure?

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