Are you still wondering what you want to be when you grow up?  What kind of career abilities do you think you have? Sherri, Renie, and Pam take an Interest Inventory and Ability Profile and you’re  not gonna believe what those gals should have been!

The girls discuss the skills they do and don’t have as they look at psychological tests to determine jobs this week. We find out that Pam and Sherri have an affinity for logic problems, but Renie gets too caught up in the backstories.  Why is Sherri going back to school? Is she looking for a new career?  And we discover that Pam would make a good split personality, (but we already knew that.  We did, too).

Click on the player below to listen to the show

Sites for free personality/ career tests (some of these give more detailed accounts for a fee)

• http://www.edonline.com/newtest/index.php
• http://www.livecareer.com/career-interest-inventory-test
• http://www.testingroom.com/

Wedding time is upon us.

Bridezillas are out in force.

What Bridezillas need, those super-controlling girls who believe that every element of their weddings can be manipulated and controlled by them, is a small dose of reality and humor. They need to realize that this ceremony, however important it is, is not the be-all and end-all of life.

So what if one bridesmaid is a not a cookie-cutter rendition of all the other maids – she surely was one of the best friends of the bride-to-be? If the bride loved her before the nuptials, she should love the maid during this time, too. Why try to change her hair color, her body size, her opinions, just for one afternoon or evening that will be eternalized in pictures but mostly forgotten in just a few years?

So what if the celebration doesn’t have the right canapés or wine or band or venue? The Bridezilla should be happy that at this time of year at least she’s GOT all of those.

So what if the flowers or cake or ring or her own body size isn’t the exact thing that she’s dreamed about since she was seven years old? Sometimes what we want as young children is not what is best for us as adults.

These brides need to realize that it’s not the faultlessness of the day they should remember, but the importance of the ceremony. And, it will be probably be the imperfections of the day that will make them smile in years to come.

Weddings that I’ve attended have been made more memorable because of the snafus rather than the absolute flawless execution of the celebration.

Such as the home wedding where the cuckoo clock decided to strike just as the bride and groom took their vows, taunting the two with a statement of their sanity as they said, “I do.” “Cuckoo!”

Or the ceremony where the candelabras started expelling the fake pillar candles into the air like rockets when the bride started reciting her vows, only to fall with a “thud” near the altar around her, almost setting the church on fire.

Or the one where the groom’s mother insisted her family all travel to the church together, even though she was notoriously late, causing the bride to pace in the vestry for 15 minutes, wondering if she’d been stood up (along with the rest of the congregation!).

But my favorite imperfect wedding was a ranch wedding. The barn had been laboriously decorated for days in advance with hay bales neatly arranged in rows for pews, tea light candles in mason jars for soft, romantic lighting, flowers from the garden placed around the pulpit, and greenery cut from the home pine trees attached to the rafters with ribbon the color of the bridesmaids’ dresses. The homey effect was subtle and just fit the two who were to be married.

The new magistrate judge, a dear friend of the family, had agreed to perform the 8 o’clock marriage ceremony. It went off without a hitch. The blushing bride and her handsome husband were introduced as a married couple at the end of the ritual. The festivities began.

Toasts were made. Food was served. The wedding cake was cut. Pictures were taken. The band played. Dancing took place on the concrete outside of the barn around large fire pits aglow with light and warmth.

At 11:30 some of the guests were ready to depart and went searching for the bride and groom to give their congratulations and best wishes. When the newlyweds couldn’t be found, eyebrows went up in a questioning fashion, wondering perhaps if the newly-joined couple had slipped away to be, well, newly joined. The cry of “Where are they?” went quickly around the gathering. The guests decided to stick around for a few more minutes to give the couple a knowing ribbing when they returned to the party, a type of reverse chivaree.

Around midnight, headlights appeared in the distance, coming closer and closer throwing dirt up behind a car as it sped down the caliche road, finally swinging into the driveway in front of the barn. The laughing couple, still dressed in their marriage finery, hopped out.

“Where’ve you been?” questioned the mother of the bride.

“We had to go to town,” said the bride. “The judge called us a little after 11. She realized that she had performed a ceremony outside of city limits and her judicial realm didn’t extend into the county. We weren’t married! Our marriage license expires at midnight, so we had to get married before then. She asked us to meet her at the closest spot just inside city limits to perform another ceremony, so we did!”

“Where was that?” her dad asked.

“The graveyard!” she laughed. “We got married in the cemetery!”

That was one bride who could laugh about her wedding glitch. Bridezillas should take note.

–Renie

Tom travels 25 mph going south on the Interstate. Polly travels 28 mph going north on the same Interstate. Dan travels west on an intersecting Interstate at a 75% faster rate of speed than the combined speed of Tom and Polly. Hanna travels east on the same intersecting Interstate at 1/3 less speed than Dan. If they all live 100 miles away from the Interstate intersection what time should each of them leave their homes to arrive at the same instant and what are the chances (in percentages) that they are all redheads?

I swear that was one of the questions asked on the math portion of the ability assessment I was talked into taking by my youngest daughter. She wants me to get a new job and she wants me to be “well-suited” for whatever this work might be. I don’t want another job. I’ve got enough to keep me busy with writing, being co-host of Life and Other Matters, gardening, cycling, woodworking… But, I humored her and took the test. When we last left, I had just completed the math section of the ability test. Wait, I hadn’t completed it; I ran out of time.

The second section of the test was synonyms/antonyms. I was given a list of four words, and I had to tell which ones were more closely the same or more diametrically opposite. Here’s an example:

a. Sad                         b. Happy              c. Peanut             d. Fire

The correct answer would be the opposites, A/B, so I would fill I the bubble on the screen that corresponded to that.

Another example:

a, Bed                        b. Divan                c Sofa                    d. Table

The correct answer would be more closely the same, B/C, so I would fill in that circle.

Really, they were all as straightforward and simple as those two examples. I had nine minutes on the clock. With seven minutes to spare, I finished this ridiculously easy task. I suppose it might help that in my former life I was an English teacher.

The third section was spatial recognition. You know, the one where you look at an object one-dimensionally, as though it were laid out flat on a table and you have to match what it would look like when it was all folded up.

Who devised this wicked, ego-deflating assessment? And for what purpose? I have folded my fair share of laundry over the space of my life and I tried and tried to put those rules of bending and creasing to use when manipulating these mind-numbing pictures in my brain. Didn’t help. I’ve since found out that males generally do better than females on these spatial tests; it’s in their genes. Good for them. They can start folding the laundry more often! Needless to say, I ran out of time on this silly test, too.

The fourth test was name recognition. I was given two names, side by side and I had to determine if they were the same or different.

(1) Sam and Sons Surf Shop (2) Sam and Son Surf Shop. Since the “s” is left off of the second name, it would be different.

(1)Hominy Ham (2) Hominy Ham.  Since the name is the same, only the print is different, I would bubble in “same.”

I guess this ridiculously easy test was to make me feel less stupid after folding the boxes and I whizzed through the three pages of 300 names in about two minutes. I didn’t grade about 1500 senior essays a year for nothing in my past job!

The next to the last test was a matching test. Which of the following pictures is the same as the first?

What began simply enough soon became more complicated. The pictures were minute, the choices varied and subtle. I got a headache from squinting. My vision blurred. I finished, but honestly, I just started guessing. I didn’t give a rip if picture A was the exact replica upside down or just close enough. Who needs this skill for a job?

My brain was fried when I started the last test. Simple computation.  You know, 1 + 1 stuff. But I was confused, addled, worn out. I couldn’t focus long enough to carry the correct amount on long columns of addition or to borrow from the right number in long rows of subtraction. Didn’t finish that test, either. Didn’t care. We have calculators to do those measly computations now. I don’t want a job where I have to add columns of numbers by hand all day. Archaic.

Finally, my aptitude test was over! And I was about to find out what career I should go into next.

Seconds later, jobs that matched my abilities scrolled on the computer screen. These jobs were matched with careers from the interest assessment I’d taken earlier on this same site.

I held my breath. And there it was. My next career should be… EMBALMER.

Like I said, I have enough to keep me busy without finding another paying job!

–Renie

Darynda Jones – the absolutely sweetest, most innocent-looking gal you’d ever meet. Yet she writes of crime, murder and mayhem… and we’ve got her on the show! The author of First Grave on the Right, Second Grave on the Left, Third Grave Dead Ahead, and the soon-to-be-released, Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet, Darynda is up for several awards, including a couple of RITA’s and an AUDIE.

We talk about an oversexed, coffee-driven detective who just happens to be a grim reaper, as well as the son of Satan, whom any woman would love to bed.   We ask about her paranormal mystery series, her awards, and why she’s glad her sons and husband haven’t read her books! Join us for our chat with award-winning author Darynda Jones

Click on the player below to listen to the show

About Darynda Jones:

NYTimes and USA Today Best Selling author Darynda Jones won the 2009 Golden Heart® for Best Paranormal Romance with her manuscript FIRST GRAVE ON THE RIGHT. But even before that, she couldn’t remember a time she wasn’t putting pen to paper.

Book one in the Charley Davidson series, FIRST GRAVE ON THE RIGHT, was a hardcover release in February 2011 with book two, SECOND GRAVE ON THE LEFT, coming out in August 2011 and book three, THIRD GRAVE DEAD AHEAD, in February 2012. She hopes you enjoy reading the series as much as she has writing it. Her fourth book in the series, FOURTH GRAVE BENEATH MY FEET is scheduled to be out later this year.

She is currently on the short list for two RITA awards and an AUDIE for her books.

Darynda lives in the Land of Enchantment, also known as New Mexico, with her husband of more than 25 years and two beautiful sons, the Mighty, Mighty Jones Boys.

For more about Darynda, go to her website: www.DaryndaJones.com

The gals are indignant! Individuals they don’t even know can post pictures or mug shots of them on the Internet without their permission.  And then, in order to get those pictures taken down, the girls have to pay! Isn’t that extortion? Isn’t that illegal? Isn’t that at least immoral? Join Pam, Sherri, and Renie as they discuss mug shots, DUI’s, and hangovers.

Click on the player below to listen to the show

Links from the show:

Sherri's Mugshot

The ABC News story about the websites that post your mugshots online

The Cnet story of the guy who posted his ex-girlfriend’s nude photos

The CBS news story about the Hangover Heaven bus

My youngest daughter convinced me to take an interest and ability inventory recently. I think she wants me to come out of retirement and get a job. She thinks my new habit of talking to total strangers in grocery stores is pathetic and shows I need more human interaction on a daily basis.

That, and she’s tired of me saying, “Nope, that’s not in my retirement budget,” when she wants to flit off to Tahiti for the weekend.

The interest inventory was easy and it wasn’t a surprise. After all, if I don’t know what I’m interested in at this point in my life, I haven’t paid attention to anything during my waking hours!

The ability profile assessment took a bit longer than the interest. It was an online test. Six areas. No calculators, dictionaries, or help from others. Timed. No cheating.

I began. The little countdown clock at the bottom of the computer screen started ticking.

The first ability test section dealt with math. I’m horrendous at math. Not just bad, horrendous! I started doing the “real life” word problems. The first was easy: You are a doctor. You can see four patients an hour. You work nine hours per day. How many patients can you see in three and a half days?

Instead of doing the simple math on my fingers or tallying the hash marks that stood for patients on my scratch paper before going on to the next problem, I questioned why I was seeing these patients for only fifteen minutes each. What type of doctor was I? Could it be that I was more interested in the bottom line than my patients’ health? I questioned why I had gone into the health field at all.

I shook off my musings and went back to the math test. The questions got progressively more difficult as the exam continued and time rushed out of the little timer at the bottom of the screen.  Tim drives 20 minutes to work one way. He comes home for lunch three days a week. How much time does Tim spend in his car each week?

Instead of doing the computations, I started berating Tim. Why are you driving that much? Why don’t you at least carpool or take public transportation? Tim, what are you thinking wasting forty minutes of your lunchtime driving home to gulp down a tuna fish sandwich? Why aren’t you brown-bagging it and then walking for your health during the rest of lunch? How much weight have you gained since you got this job, Tim?

I was so angry at Tim! Wasting his money, time, and our precious resources — it took everything in my power to finish the math without finding his phone number and calling him up. I don’t think I got the answer correct.

I went on to the next problem: Sarah, Sally, and Sue buy a yacht together.  The cost of the yacht is $5,275.00. Sarah pays for one-half. Sally pays for one-third. In dollars, how much does Sue pay for her portion of the yacht?

I was incredulous about these three girls! First of all, what kind of a “yacht” could they buy for such a paltry sum? They were taken; the yacht probably has dry rot. They should have had it inspected before they’d signed on the dotted line. I couldn’t believe that the blonde bimbo, Sue, got away with only paying a trifling bit. Of course, she didn’t have a job and had been mooching off of her friends for years; why couldn’t Sally and Sarah see that? All she did was play on the beach all day long and now she was going to have a yacht to play on, too. Sarah and Sally would have to spring for the gas and mechanical upkeep.

What an enabler Sarah was! To pay one-half for the yacht just so the partying floozy that she’d roomed with in college could play on it all day long. Poor Sarah would never get to have fun on it; she would be too busy toiling, day after day, to pay for its upkeep and repairs. Sarah would own that yacht for years and never step one foot on it.

I was a little happier with dowdy, down-to-Earth Sally; at least she stuck by her guns and would only pay the third that she’d agreed to. She would make sure she and her young family took it out every third week to get their money’s worth of this adventure. She would always leave the yacht in better shape than she’d found it – the galley clean and well-stocked, the head antiseptic, the blankets aired, the gas tank full.

All of a sudden, the computer screen went blank. My time was up. I had made it to page three of ten mathematical problems of this test.

It was a good thing it was over. I was exhausted. The creators of this ability test shouldn’t make this section a psychological profile along with math computations.  The people in these word problems had too many personal predicaments that got in the way of my doing the math. That just wasn’t fair test-taking procedure.

When I got the results of this section, it didn’t surprise me…

(More on this assessment next week! I found out what I should have been in my working career, according to my abilities. )

–Renie

By the way, here’s how Tequila Journalist Mike Morales makes his Perfect Margarita

And oh… that pesky worm? Here’s the REAL story about it!

The Kris Smith Grand Margarita

• A double shot of good premium tequila (at least a blanco, if not a reposada – but save the anejo for sipping or shots).
• Add a shot of Triple Sec or Cointreau A shot of beer (pilsner or lager)
• A splash of Rose’s lime juice,
• A splash of sweet & sour mix.

If you like ‘em blended then add the ice and fire up the blender & pour it  into your glass (don’t forget to salt the rim first). If you like ‘em on the rocks then add the ice and shake or stir before pouring.

Whether blended or on the rocks, top it all off with a shot of Grand Marnier. They always taste best if you drink them with friends. Cheers!

Ron Castruita’s Easy-to-Find Margarita Recipe

A friend from Houston tells this story: “Molinas’ had famous Happy Hour spots in downtown Houston. I asked my friend Raul, the owner’s son, ‘Hey c’mon, what’s the secret recipe to your legendary Margarita’s?’

Raul looked around, making sure no one could hear and whispered “We got it right off the label of Jose Cuervo White, shhhh…”

The Sarah Werner Best-Ever Margarita

• 1 can 7-up
• 1 can frozen limeade
• Fill empty frozen limeade can with tequila and ….then lastly
• Add 1 can mexican beer!

Best recipe ever!!!!!…

The Kevin Robbins Aww-Hell Margarita

Get a bag of limes, a bottle of tequila, some triple sec and a little sugar and salt. (You can generally get them all at the same place.)

DeeAnn McArdle’s CaboRita

• 2 ounces Cabo Wabo
• 2 ounces triple sec
• 1 ounce fresh squeezed lime juice

]]> http://healthandlifestyle.acloserlookradio.com/2012/05/your-favorite-margarita-recipes/feed/ 2 http://healthandlifestyle.acloserlookradio.com/2012/04/life-and-other-matters-the-secret-service-and-bad-apples-april-24-2012/ http://healthandlifestyle.acloserlookradio.com/2012/04/life-and-other-matters-the-secret-service-and-bad-apples-april-24-2012/#comments Tue, 24 Apr 2012 23:46:54 +0000 Beverly http://healthandlifestyle.acloserlookradio.com/?p=1806

The “secret” Secret Service:  This week the girls stop being hush-hush about their encounters with the Secret Service and spill all. What happened to Pam, her car, and the Secret Service in Anchorage? How could the Secret Service tell Renie wasn’t packing a gun in Des Moines? Why does Sherri defend the agency’s actions in Cartagena? They also talk about another scandal in the news and how what the GSA did in Las Vegas didn’t stay in Vegas!

And who did sing that old song, “One bad apple don’t spoil the whole bunch, girl?”

Click on the player below to hear the show!

By Renie Stag Smith

The sound of a bird’s wings flapping, fluttering up and down, repeating incessantly finally registered in my brain. I’d been lost in working on the novel, typing at a steady and even click, clack, click when the noise intruded into my thoughts.

I live in and work from a house that has floor-to-ceiling windows along the entire south side of the house. We get many birds in the backyard at this time of the year – blue jays, robins, sparrows, pigeons, mockingbirds, woodpeckers, doves, and the ever-present and noisome grackle.

The birds hop along the length of the cement porch, searching for flower seeds recently planted in pots, bread or cracker crumbs dropped from a lunch alfresco,  or raw peanuts and birdseed scattered across the area in hopes that the birds might stay and roost in the evergreens near the far edge of the backyard.  The carnivorous birds peck at the ground in search of juicy worms that live in the loamy soil.

The birds fly in and out of the trees and up under the roof line, wheeling and circling, returning to their nests. Sometimes, especially just after I’ve washed the windows, they lose their bearings, thinking they’ll fly right through the house and THUD, they crash headfirst into the window.

Some birds realize just before impact that there is an invisible barrier coming up quickly and try frantically to slow themselves down before smashing into the glass. These birds are not usually harmed too much and either soar away or sit stunned on the porch for a few minutes before alighting for the sky.

Others don’t realize anything and hit full tilt, leaving their dusty imprint on the glass with wings splayed and head upright in the middle. These birds usually die on impact and fall to the ground in a floppy heap.

It’s a common occurrence to hear birds fluttering about on the porch.

However, the sounds I heard weren’t coming from outside the window. This flapping was inside!

Our little dog, Jazzy, recently taught herself how to open the sliding screen door, just enough for her little Yorkshire terrier body to go in and out whenever she wants. She hasn’t learned to close it, however.  I guess that’s how that little birdie got inside.

I watched it fly up and down the window farthest from me, striking its beak repeatedly against the glass, trying to find a hole to fly to the safety of the trees.

Again and again it tried. And failed.

I was afraid that the bird was going to kill itself bashing its beak again and again against the glass and I decided it needed some help. I got up, opened the screen door completely, picked up a cushion to use as a prod and slowly moved behind the bird. And scared it. Startled, it flew down the bank of windows, ramming into each one, trying to escape. The only bank it skipped was the one with the open door. It flew to the opposite side of the house, finally landing and quivering on the floor in front of another window.

I approached it again and up it flew, but this time into the hallway. I quickly closed all the open doors and tried to shoo it back near the windows. It ran into a wall and fell to the floor, stunned and droopy.

I thought that if I could pick it up,  I could release it in the backyard and I hurried to the fireplace to snatch a pair of leather gloves kept there for handling the firewood.

Back to the little birdie I hastened. But it had shaken off its stupor and flew away as I bent down to pick it up.

BLAM! Full force it flew into another window. This time it fell to the floor on its side. I could tell it was still alive and it wouldn’t be long before it garnered enough energy for another feeble attempt at escape. I didn’t have much time.

I scooped it up in my gloved hands, took it outside, and laid it beneath one of the pine trees. Its wings began fluttering as I walked away.

As I walked back into the house, I realized this bird was much like many of us – obstinate and not willing to accept any type of help. It was going to get out of its predicament in its way! Had it not been so stubborn, it would have saved itself some pain and much wasted energy.

How many of us constantly flutter around, knocking our heads against walls because we are too willful to accept help? To admit that perhaps our way isn’t the best way?

I hope I don’t forget this little bird who finally got up from the ground and shot up to the topmost of the tree, all because of a little help that it didn’t really think it needed.

–Renie

By Renie Stag Smith

I was talking to a new teacher last evening and he asked what was the most important thing I learned in college that helped me in my career.

It didn’t take me a moment to answer. “Writing on the board turned sideways so I could still pay attention to the students and what was going on behind me.”

Oh, I learned many other interesting things in my Fundamentals of Education class – how to thread a film projector, how to run off copies from a spirit master (boy, did I love that smell!), how to average grades on a calculator, how to draw seating charts, but all of those important skills have become obsolete.  Those can now be done quickly and more efficiently through a laptop computer and peripheral components.

In thirty years, the only thing skill that I learned in college and still used was writing sideways while somewhat facing the classroom to pay attention to those around me. (Not once did I have spitballs aimed anywhere in my room!)

One skill that couldn’t be taught and that most good teachers develop is acute hearing. Especially when students are working in groups.

I could be standing near one group, answering questions about the assignment and hear another group, all the way across the room talking about prom dresses or a speeding ticket or a work schedule. I’d just clear my throat loudly and say, “Clarrissa, that’s so nice that you don’t have to work until Sunday afternoon, but let’s get back to work in my class now, shall we?” and Clarrissa would sputter and say, “How did you hear me all the way over there?” One of the boys in another group would guffaw and I’d pierce him, “Claude, I don’t know why you are laughing. You were talking about your new hunting rifle and I was going to suggest that you and your partners hunt for more answers of the problem of the day.”

Later, I usually used the information I’d heard to keep them interested in my lectures. “Clarrissa, you had two days off this week and didn’t have to go in to work until Sunday. Did you know that in Charles Dickens time, you would only have had a few hours a week off? Let’s look at Pip’s workload in Great Expectations.”  Or “Claude, you got a new hunting rifle recently. Did you know that in Chaucer’s day, one occupation was a hunter? He was called a Yeoman. Let’s read The Yeoman’s description in “The Prologue” of The Canterbury Tales.” My students knew that I was listening to what they had to say and took note of it, remembered it.

Many of the skills that we learned in preparation for our careers have become outdated: learning shorthand to become a secretary, tearing apart a car to diagnose the problem to repair it, drawing storyboards by hand to create a commercial, counting inventory by hand to determine buying needs. All of these can be done now with computers.

However, the skills that I learned to manage a classroom and still use today – paying attention to those around me and listening attentively to what people are saying — are skills will never become passé. No matter your chosen career, whether it be a mechanic, a clerk, a dentist, a manager, your job will be easier if you just pay close attention and truly listen to your customers, your supervisors, your subordinates. Heck, your personal life will be better if you follow those two caveats, also!

Computers are wonderful time-saving devices that have made great advances in our work world. But they’ll never be able to provide the skills needed to be successful in our world — listening to and being aware of the other people around you.

–Renie