My 5-Year-Old Figured Out My Password

(To celebrate her high school graduation, my daughter and I are on a little hiatus together. A mother/daughter hiatus. I will be posting some of my favorite posts in the interim. Enjoy!)

My son was playing with an old relic from my husband’s childhood. The Playskool castle. He said, “All the people are in the dungeon. And guess what? The girl in the dungeon? She figured out the code to get out. You see, the knight (he’s holding the knight in his hand showing him to me) he made up the code. And the girl figured it out. It was 1-2-3. What a dumb code! Who couldn’t figure that out?!”

Even my 5-year-old son knows that’s a stupid code.

But apparently, many of us use some of the worst passwords for our computer, our atm card, iphones. Here are the top 21 worst passwords according to TVNZ:

1) 123456
2) password
3) 12345678
4) 1234
5) pussy
6) 12345
7) dragon
qwerty
9) 696969
10) mustang
11) letmein
12) baseball
13) master
14) michael
15) football
16) shadow
17) monkey
18) abc123
19) pass
20) f***me
21) 6969

I was going to stop at the top 10. But then I saw #11, letmein. Letmein? I actually snorted a little on that one.

So I was going to stop at the top 11 but then I saw number 20. Number 20 reminded me a little of some of my bloggy friends out there (you know who you are!) and I started to wonder…with how often I see that phrase on your blogs I wondered if any of you use it as a password?

But I couldn’t stop at 20 once I saw #21 (totally missing #9 for some reason). 6969. Ahhhh, it takes me back to my teaching days. I taught both high school math and english (I know. I’m one of those strange anomalies – neither right-brained nor left-brained. What can I say?). Especially in math class. If I said, “Turn to page 69.” Snickers. Or, “Do problems 1 – 69 odd.” Giggles. And then there was always, “George, what is the answer to 18?” Well. If the answer was 69? He could barely get a word out, turning red, holding back a laugh, the rest of the class cracking up with one person completely oblivious saying, “What’s so funny? Why is 71 funny?”

So? Did you see YOUR password up there?

When Jane Wishes Upon A Star

(To celebrate her high school graduation, my daughter and I are on a little hiatus together. A mother/daughter hiatus. I will be posting some of my favorite posts in the interim. Enjoy!)

I wish I had all the time to read every blog I want to read, with plenty of time to make deep, thoughtful comments and the time to write amazing posts of my own.

I wish I hadn’t have spent $75 on a massage that was just so-so from someone fresh out of massage school. I thought I was saving money.  But it was so not worth it.

I wish I didn’t use the word “so” so much. (Whoops! I did it again, Brittany!)

I wish I could turn back time and snuggle my babies when they were babies again.

I wish the mess in the Gulf had never happened and I worry about all the wildlife choking on the filth.

I wish more than a fifth of all Americans, such as, COULD locate, like Iraq and South Africa such as everywhere like, the United States on a map. (I’m sorry to make fun of her again. But it is still funny.)

I wish whenever I was stuck for a blog post idea the writing prompts I look up actually inspired me.

I wish I had a pa-pa-pa-poker face.

I wish all the food that tastes so good had the negative calories of celery.

I wish Diet Coke didn’t taste like….Diet.

I wish every blogger out there (especially the ones who read my humble blog) lots of traffic and lots of fabulous post ideas.

I wish I could win the lottery. Of course, I suppose I should at least play the lottery first. (Which I’ve never done. Ever. Can you believe it?)

I wish I knew what my writing gift was. I wish I could decide what I do best and run with it.

I wish everyone out there a happy, happy Memorial Day. I wish everyone protecting our freedom and the freedom of others a safe arrival home. And if you’re missing someone who has died I wish you peace in your heart.

Releasing Cheaters Into The Wild? Now That’s Tough Love!

(To celebrate her high school graduation, my daughter and I are on a little hiatus together. A mother/daughter hiatus. I will be posting some of my favorite posts in the interim. Enjoy!)

 

The facts: I am a rule follower. My mother wears hearing aids. I like to listen to the BBC a few mornings a week to hear world news and opinion.

Now, on with my story…

The other morning I was listening to the BBC when I heard the newscaster say, “Blah, blah, blah (some organization, from India maybe?) is planning on releasing cheaters into the wild.”

Cheaters?

Isn’t that a little harsh?

What will it be like…maybe a remote area, similar to a leper colony? Or will it be like that reality show “Survivor” and there will be cameras, a neutral host and episodes on trust and how to cheat a cheater?

Didn’t she say India? I never realized their justice system was so harsh. Is a cheater someone who cheats on a spelling test or on their taxes? Or is this for cheating spouses? They’ll banish them from society and make them live with their fellow cheaters. See how they like cheating then! Yep. That’ll teach ‘em.

And then the newscaster spoke of “Chiner.”

Chiner? I’ve never heard of that country….

Oh, wait. China. And cheetahs. Releasing cheetahs into the wild.

Oops.

Nevermind.

 

My! How Time Flies!

I remember, sitting in a large auditorium, listening to the Assistant Headmaster welcome all of the parents of the incoming kindergarteners to the school.

“Welcome parents of the class of 2011!”

And we all chuckled.

My, how time flies!

 

 

Congratulations, my sweet, adorable angel. I’m so proud of you!

Jane Prepares For The Rapture. And You Should, Too.

I flipped on the radio today and overheard the radio personality talking about the Rapture. Since I know little of this event, I was intrigued.

It was the Neal Boortz Radio Show. I wish I could take credit for his suggestion for tomorrow, because it’s brilliant. He wants us to go into our closets and pull out a full set of clothes. Right down to the underwear. And then, sometime early tomorrow morning, go to a public place and lay out your clothes — as if you were suddenly taken to another physical plane and no longer reside with the evil heathens who are left to suffer the aftermath.

If the Rapture happens, we’ll mess up next year’s census report. If it doesn’t, we’ll have a great laugh.

Well, with my twisted sense of humor, I’ll have a laugh either way.

I cracked up at the suggestion. Nay, assignment. Because I’m going to do this!

Who’s with me?

Jane Goes Undercover. It’s Going To Be An Interesting Summer.

 

A little background, if I may: I began swimming competitively when I was about 9 years old. Apparently, I had a little talent in the sport. I made it to national meets by the time I was 13. I loved swimming. I was one of the weird ones who didn’t mind getting up at 5am to swim before school. I enjoyed being the first one to practice. I was one of those year-round crazies that swam 2-4 hours a day, 10,000 yards a practice, 50 weeks out of the year.

In college, I received a music scholarship and had to choose between swimming and music. It was a Big Ten University with a stellar swimming program. I made the team but not with any financial help. Since music was paying for some of my schooling, music won. But I had been coaching summer league swimming since I was 17 and found a part-time job as an assistant coach in a year round age group program in college. I could enjoy both of my loves. I was set. I coached for 12 years.

When my children came along I always steered them toward another sport. I knew how pushy/obnoxious/ignorant swimming parents could be. (Little did I know, they’d be the same way in every other sport) I didn’t want to become one of those parents. My youngest son wasn’t buying it. He begged and pleaded and practically went on strike until we’d let him swim. He started his first team experience a week ago.

Parents are required to volunteer at three meets per season. Because we started late, there weren’t many volunteer slots left to choose from. Except for Stroke and Turn Judge, which requires a training class. I attended the training class yesterday afternoon.

What an experience.

Background information #2: I’ve decided not to advertise my background in the sport. Many parents involved in swimming, if they haven’t competed themselves, think that because they’ve watched the Olympics a few times and can pick out Michael Phelps in a line up, they are experts at swimming. I’m a people watcher – a people observer. In short, I’m looking forward to seeing some of these “experts” in action.

“For those of us who arrived 4 minutes early, what did we miss?” asks a woman from the back, obviously annoyed that the instructor has started on time. Yes. He started on time. I know, because I’m a stickler for punctuality when it involves missing time from my family. I secretly shake my head and decide that those who choose any kind of officiating role must be control freaks.

The instructor is trying to find out what kind of experience we have in the sport.

“Raise your hand if you’ve officiated before and this is just a refresher course,” he asks.

Of course, my hand is down.

“Raise your hand if this is your first time taking the course.”

I raise my hand.

Because he thinks he knows the answer, he grins and says, “Keep your hand up if this is your child’s first season swimming.”

I’m the only one with my hand up.

He looks at me with wide eyes. “Your child has never swam before?”

“No sir,” I reply.

He shakes his head. “Then sharpen your pencil. You’ve got a lot to take in.”

I certainly do, I think, smiling inside.

About half way into the session, a woman asks, “Is this going to run much longer? My daughter has her last soccer game today.” We’ve only covered two strokes. We still have two more and relays and IMs to cover.

“You’ll need to sign up for another course,” the instructor replies, “You can’t be certified if you only complete half.”

“But my dad was an official at the Pam Am games,” she answers.

“Is he going to come with you to every meet?” asks the instructor.

She pouts and stays to finish the class.

We work in groups, analyzing different infractions. One of my group-mates boasts that he swam in high school and was never DQ’d (disqualified) so this is going to be a piece of cake for him.  And I think, yeah. That’s because you swam four months out of every year and probably only swam the freestyle. If you haven’t been DQ’d, you haven’t been swimming very long.

As we turned in our tests and they were graded in front of us, the instructor – obviously impressed with my score – said, “You must have been an excellent student in school.”

I smiled and nodded, afraid to open my mouth and betray my true experience.

Ahhhh, yes.

This is going to be an interesting season.

A 43 Year Age Difference Wrong? Not If You’re A Rock Star.

Fact: Steven Tyler is 63 years old. That is 5 years younger than my own mother. So, technically, he could be my father. A young father, but I’m pretty sure he was “doin’ it” at that age.

Fact: Steven Tyler’s first solo performance video was released this week.(You can see the video here.)

Fact: The back-up singer, Nicole Scherzinger (age 32), could definitely be his daughter.

 Almost Fact (because I’m still trying to prove it): The model used in the video, the object of Steven Tyler’s desires, looks young. Like really, really, really young. Uber-young. Young enough to be my daughter. So that would be young enough to be his granddaughter.

Fact + fact + fact + almost fact = something that turns my stomach.

Ewwwww.

Just ewwwww.