I don't really have anything to say - the book took an interesting turn during my lunch break, but if I say anything about it, it will spoil it for anyone who wants to read it.
I guess I mostly just wanted to feel connected.
01 August 2005
Cosmetiquette
I don't normally wear makeup.
Partly because I don't like it.
Partly because it takes time to apply it.*
Partly because it means I have to take extra time at night to wash it off.
Partly because, apart from photographs, I don't think most women need it, and I firmly believe that FAR TOO MANY women have been convinced that they do.
I have makeup on today.
The story:
Since my late 20's but ESPECIALLY since pregnancy and the birth of my daughter, I have had bad skin. This was a miserable realisation for me, as I had beautiful skin through my teens, which are supposed to be the worst. There are a lot of reasons why my skin could have taken a nose dive... not as much time spent on washing my face before bed; entering the work force full time and dealing with a world of financial stress I never thought I'd suffer; sitting, bored, through meetings with my cheek in my palm; hormone changes... who knows... there are a lot of possibilities - and combinations of them.
Anywho... the bad skin is exacerbated by the fact that I can't leave the blemishes alone and find myself as often as not tugging at the rough edges of my skin until - well, until my face is a nasty mess of sores, scabs, and ugly blotches of red.
Recently, significant stresses in my life have had an unnerving effect on the state of my face... and I'm blotched with ugliness across my forehead and down most of my right cheek. Quite honestly, it's damned ugly.
For my own sake this isn't a problem. I don't look in the mirror all that much anyway.
But this morning, I got to thinking about how uncomfortable my franken-face must make others. I know that when I see someone with an obvious disfigurement, despite every attempt to behave normally, my eye traces to the cold sore, or the giant pimple, or the scar, or the scab, or... you get the picture. My drifting attention makes me uncomfortable, because I'm always wondering if the person with the unfortunate affliction is wondering if I'm looking at it, or if it really doesn't show, or whatever. Under those circumstances, it often feels like absolutely no headway - or social discourse - is actually happening, and we're both doing a very uncomfortable version of the Mexican Hat Dance around the offending malady.
So... this morning... for the sake of those around me... and the work and conversations and social discourse I would like to support, I put on makeup.
The most amusing bit is that apart from a meeting this morning (a meeting with people who I wouldn't at all have minded offending, by the way) no one's seen me.
* As a note for all of you who inclined to advise me that I can do a "quick coat" of just my "focus areas" in only 5 minutes... that is five minutes of sleep, tooth brushing, hair brushing, cat feeding, etc that I'd rather not add to my already insane 4:30 wake up time!
Partly because I don't like it.
Partly because it takes time to apply it.*
Partly because it means I have to take extra time at night to wash it off.
Partly because, apart from photographs, I don't think most women need it, and I firmly believe that FAR TOO MANY women have been convinced that they do.
I have makeup on today.
The story:
Since my late 20's but ESPECIALLY since pregnancy and the birth of my daughter, I have had bad skin. This was a miserable realisation for me, as I had beautiful skin through my teens, which are supposed to be the worst. There are a lot of reasons why my skin could have taken a nose dive... not as much time spent on washing my face before bed; entering the work force full time and dealing with a world of financial stress I never thought I'd suffer; sitting, bored, through meetings with my cheek in my palm; hormone changes... who knows... there are a lot of possibilities - and combinations of them.
Anywho... the bad skin is exacerbated by the fact that I can't leave the blemishes alone and find myself as often as not tugging at the rough edges of my skin until - well, until my face is a nasty mess of sores, scabs, and ugly blotches of red.
Recently, significant stresses in my life have had an unnerving effect on the state of my face... and I'm blotched with ugliness across my forehead and down most of my right cheek. Quite honestly, it's damned ugly.
For my own sake this isn't a problem. I don't look in the mirror all that much anyway.
But this morning, I got to thinking about how uncomfortable my franken-face must make others. I know that when I see someone with an obvious disfigurement, despite every attempt to behave normally, my eye traces to the cold sore, or the giant pimple, or the scar, or the scab, or... you get the picture. My drifting attention makes me uncomfortable, because I'm always wondering if the person with the unfortunate affliction is wondering if I'm looking at it, or if it really doesn't show, or whatever. Under those circumstances, it often feels like absolutely no headway - or social discourse - is actually happening, and we're both doing a very uncomfortable version of the Mexican Hat Dance around the offending malady.
So... this morning... for the sake of those around me... and the work and conversations and social discourse I would like to support, I put on makeup.
The most amusing bit is that apart from a meeting this morning (a meeting with people who I wouldn't at all have minded offending, by the way) no one's seen me.
* As a note for all of you who inclined to advise me that I can do a "quick coat" of just my "focus areas" in only 5 minutes... that is five minutes of sleep, tooth brushing, hair brushing, cat feeding, etc that I'd rather not add to my already insane 4:30 wake up time!
Lovely Bones
I'm still not sure why it's called that, but the book is pretty good. It's loosely about a serial killer... and mostly about one of his victims and her family... for better or worse... and about heaven. I picture of heaven which I have to admit, I rather enjoy.
My favorite part of the book, though, is still the first few opening lines:
So far, with about 3/4 of the book behind me, it's a really good read.
My favorite part of the book, though, is still the first few opening lines:
"My name was Salmon, like the fish; first name Susie. I was fourteen when I was murdered on December 6, 1973."
So far, with about 3/4 of the book behind me, it's a really good read.
It's not the Louvre, but...
I have a "drawing" hanging on my blue bulletin board above my computer. My daughter made it for me. Mostly it's a collection of green, yellow (the only color she can sort of say), orange, black, blue, and red. She has lost her brown crayon (I know where it is) and doesn't have a purple on in her bucket yet. There's no meaning to the scribbles, and I can't find any hidden pictures - partly because I refuse to look for them. I have it because it's an expression of her desire to learn new things... a testament to her unmitigated compulsion to learn - and play. I have it at work because it's especially important for me to remember that message while I'm looking at the same kind of request for the umpteenth time in a month.
And because it reminds me of sitting behind her as she stood at the paper on the stool, giddy with crayons in her hands and mama at her back... and the smell of her hair and the warmth of her as she leaned back against me to review her work. In short, because it reminds me of being with her, and being happy.
I never used to be able to understand why my mom cared so much about the scribbles I put on her refrigerator door... and sometimes even felt guilty that I hadn't taken enough time to make something that warranted that kind of display.
I get it now.
And because it reminds me of sitting behind her as she stood at the paper on the stool, giddy with crayons in her hands and mama at her back... and the smell of her hair and the warmth of her as she leaned back against me to review her work. In short, because it reminds me of being with her, and being happy.
I never used to be able to understand why my mom cared so much about the scribbles I put on her refrigerator door... and sometimes even felt guilty that I hadn't taken enough time to make something that warranted that kind of display.
I get it now.
29 July 2005
Done and a regret
I raced through the last pages of Eragon yesterday at lunch... taking a few moments to linger over some of the better passages, but mostly just tearing through the words, packing my head full of all the memories of what the words meant, so that after lunch the message could echo through the remainder of the afternoon.
I really REALLY liked this book.
There are points at which you can tell it's written by a young author. The bad guys are pretty easy to pick out, for example. Still, being something of an optimist as regards the genuine good in people, I am pleased that a 15 year old boy wasn't more adept at hiding his bad-guys. In my opinion, 15 year old boys are meant to be genuine, and not so good at conniving and deceit. It made me smile.
My only regrets about this whole experience are that:
a) I didn't have an uninterrupted, snow-stormy, roaring-fireplace-weekend for reading it
and
b) I finished it 3 weeks before the next book will be sent to our house... and my mom gets to read it first.
Buy, borrow, or otherwise acquire this book... in all it took me about 5 hours to read. Granted I'm a fast reader, but it's light and lovely and definitely worth the investment.
I really REALLY liked this book.
There are points at which you can tell it's written by a young author. The bad guys are pretty easy to pick out, for example. Still, being something of an optimist as regards the genuine good in people, I am pleased that a 15 year old boy wasn't more adept at hiding his bad-guys. In my opinion, 15 year old boys are meant to be genuine, and not so good at conniving and deceit. It made me smile.
My only regrets about this whole experience are that:
a) I didn't have an uninterrupted, snow-stormy, roaring-fireplace-weekend for reading it
and
b) I finished it 3 weeks before the next book will be sent to our house... and my mom gets to read it first.
Buy, borrow, or otherwise acquire this book... in all it took me about 5 hours to read. Granted I'm a fast reader, but it's light and lovely and definitely worth the investment.
28 July 2005
Numbers
74 - pages left until I finish this book. I will have to speed read through lunch, because I WILL NOT be able to wait until I get home
50 - days until I get to OFFICIALLY start my new job
37 - days until the next paid holiday
33 - days until I receive my referral bonus (i.e. credit card payment fodder)
5 - friends and family members with whom I NEED to "catch up"
4 - work tasks I have pending (awaiting input from others)
3 - wedding related social events that I must attend before the end of the year
126 - minutes between RIGHT NOW and lunch (when I can get back to reading the book)
50 - days until I get to OFFICIALLY start my new job
37 - days until the next paid holiday
33 - days until I receive my referral bonus (i.e. credit card payment fodder)
5 - friends and family members with whom I NEED to "catch up"
4 - work tasks I have pending (awaiting input from others)
3 - wedding related social events that I must attend before the end of the year
126 - minutes between RIGHT NOW and lunch (when I can get back to reading the book)
27 July 2005
Passage
My grandmother is dying.
She's yearned, for years, to find herself at death's door. Her commentary on her desire to leave this world began at about the same time as the onset of the Alzheimer's... and to me it made a lot of sense considering most of her happiness and solace was found in words and her own thoughts. She was a devout Catholic as well... I can only imagine her heartache when she couldn't remember the words to her prayers, and later when she couldn't remember, even, that she was praying at all.
I'm fairly certain she won't live much longer than this week and for her sake, I'm glad.
My spirituality tells me that she is poised to move into a new phase of being... and my hope for her is that it is one where she is awash in words and brilliant sparkling thoughts and full, rich conversations and lush, vivid memories.
She's yearned, for years, to find herself at death's door. Her commentary on her desire to leave this world began at about the same time as the onset of the Alzheimer's... and to me it made a lot of sense considering most of her happiness and solace was found in words and her own thoughts. She was a devout Catholic as well... I can only imagine her heartache when she couldn't remember the words to her prayers, and later when she couldn't remember, even, that she was praying at all.
I'm fairly certain she won't live much longer than this week and for her sake, I'm glad.
My spirituality tells me that she is poised to move into a new phase of being... and my hope for her is that it is one where she is awash in words and brilliant sparkling thoughts and full, rich conversations and lush, vivid memories.
26 July 2005
11:30 agony
At about 11:30 I got a call to spend a few minutes with the woman who will be my new boss.
That was nice.
On my way to the elevator, however, I found myself walking through a lingering swamp of left-behind men's cologne. It was almost nauseating.
What's worse? It was still there on my way back - 15 minutes later.
That was nice.
On my way to the elevator, however, I found myself walking through a lingering swamp of left-behind men's cologne. It was almost nauseating.
What's worse? It was still there on my way back - 15 minutes later.
Mildly Obsessed
grr.
i do not read fantasy
and yet, last night i stayed up about an hour past my normal sleep time...
...reading fantasy
Status
i'm at page 289
have learned a new word:
Main Entry: ten·e·brous
Pronunciation:
'te-n&-br&s
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French tenebreus, from Latin tenebrosus, from tenebrae
1 : shut off from the light : dark; murky
2 : hard to understand : obscure
3 : causing gloom
and am desperately awaiting lunch / reading time
i do not read fantasy
and yet, last night i stayed up about an hour past my normal sleep time...
...reading fantasy
Status
i'm at page 289
have learned a new word:
TENEBROUS
Main Entry: ten·e·brous
Pronunciation:
'te-n&-br&s
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French tenebreus, from Latin tenebrosus, from tenebrae
1 : shut off from the light : dark; murky
2 : hard to understand : obscure
3 : causing gloom
and am desperately awaiting lunch / reading time
25 July 2005
60 more under the belt...
I'm up to page 210
I really like this book - - - It has a werecat.
If there is ever such a thing as a past - or next - life:
a) I think they must run concurrently
b) I would like to be a werecat
I'm not going to tell you any more about them. If you want, you can read the book.
That's all for now - I have to prepare for a meeting... that will likely take me through the end of the day.
I really like this book - - - It has a werecat.
If there is ever such a thing as a past - or next - life:
a) I think they must run concurrently
b) I would like to be a werecat
I'm not going to tell you any more about them. If you want, you can read the book.
That's all for now - I have to prepare for a meeting... that will likely take me through the end of the day.
Book Baton
Allow me first to apologize for the fact that I do not currently have a recipient for my baton. I'm working on one, however, and will update as necessary.
# of Books on Shelves
Approximately 50 - the remaining hundreds are housed in back-breaking moving boxes scattered between attics and basements
Last book purchased
Probably it was Eldest - the sequel to Eragon
Currently Reading
Eragon
Last 5 Read
How to Say It At Work
Woe is I
Cloud Atlas
A Round Heeled Woman
Ahab's Wife
Meaningful Books
Emily Post and Miss Manners
The Unbearable Lightness of Being - M. Kundera
# of Books on Shelves
Approximately 50 - the remaining hundreds are housed in back-breaking moving boxes scattered between attics and basements
Last book purchased
Probably it was Eldest - the sequel to Eragon
Currently Reading
Eragon
Last 5 Read
How to Say It At Work
Woe is I
Cloud Atlas
A Round Heeled Woman
Ahab's Wife
Meaningful Books
Emily Post and Miss Manners
The Unbearable Lightness of Being - M. Kundera
Breakfast, Work, and Reading
Breakfast today has been (so far) an enormous bag (ok - a sandwich bag, half full) of some ridged, no flavor, potato chips (half stale from the humidity) and a still-too-hot-to-eat styrofoam cup of maple and brown sugar oatmeal. Oh - and the remnants of last night's can of diet coke with lime... and a cup of tea that's currently cooling to a non-molten temp. You'd think I was a bachelor.
Work - 53 days and counting.
I'm deep into Eragon. After attempting to read the book for several evenings in a row (and accomplishing only about a page and a half) I dedicated my daughter's nap times over the weekend to sitting down and reading and have cleared about 150 pages. In total it's about 500 pages. So I figure if I go through it at one hour increments (lunch breaks and nap times) I should be able to finish it sometime this week.
About the book - considering the following, I'd say it's a pretty recommendable read:
a) I do not read fantasy - yet this is a book about elves, magicians, dragons and their riders - and I have not put it down and walked away from it
b) the author (who was 15 when he wrote this book - and - graduated from high school) has a very rewarding vocabulary
c) I think I may have something of a trans-speciel semi-crush on Saphira - one of the main characters - at the very least, suffice to say I think very highly of her....
In other news - the weekend was peaceful and apart from a nasty sinus thingey (which I think may be a recent case of barrometer head) very, very enjoyable.
Next Up - Book Baton
Work - 53 days and counting.
I'm deep into Eragon. After attempting to read the book for several evenings in a row (and accomplishing only about a page and a half) I dedicated my daughter's nap times over the weekend to sitting down and reading and have cleared about 150 pages. In total it's about 500 pages. So I figure if I go through it at one hour increments (lunch breaks and nap times) I should be able to finish it sometime this week.
About the book - considering the following, I'd say it's a pretty recommendable read:
a) I do not read fantasy - yet this is a book about elves, magicians, dragons and their riders - and I have not put it down and walked away from it
b) the author (who was 15 when he wrote this book - and - graduated from high school) has a very rewarding vocabulary
c) I think I may have something of a trans-speciel semi-crush on Saphira - one of the main characters - at the very least, suffice to say I think very highly of her....
In other news - the weekend was peaceful and apart from a nasty sinus thingey (which I think may be a recent case of barrometer head) very, very enjoyable.
Next Up - Book Baton
19 July 2005
Wediquette
Wq recently received an invitation to a cousin's wedding.
The bride (?) very gracefully explained in the invitation "adult reception to follow..." and (and this part I liked) "tie required". In 6 words she managed to tell EVERYONE that it is a formal event and that children - while they love them - are not invited.
We will be declining. It's nothing personal... I mean, actually it's entirely personal - but it's my personal... it's not a grudge against their persons, personal. At this time in my life - and more specifically at this time in my daughter's life - I'm not prepared to spend an evening away from her to participate in the reception of a loved (but not close) cousin. As a matter of fact, at this time in her life there are very few things that will entice me away from her for an entire evening. Just ask her father... he knows...
So, the coolest bit of this invitation is that I don't really imagine either the groom or the bride being horribly offended. I knew - let me rephrase KNEW - that when I made *my* wedding a no-kids event many of the people invited would not come, because they either:
a) wanted to be with their kids or
b) wanted to be at the wedding but coudn't find a sitter.
I was not offended. I just realised that priorities are priorities and there's no way I'm going to discredit ANYONE for wanting to be with their children. As a matter of fact, I seriously applauded those who didn't come because they wanted to be with their children - but that's mostly because I really wanted a small wedding to begin with, and blah blah blah blah blah... story for a different time.
Anywho... what I'm saying is that I'm not of the mind that weddings are events for children. I've taken my daughter to three of them (in the short 15 months of her life) and she has enjoyed zero. I'm also fairly certain that the brides and grooms felt no specific special blessing for having my daughter (who doesn't understand the concept of matrimony, or blessings, or pretty much more than a vague idea of love - and that's only recent) at their events. Moreover at one of the three events, I'm almost decided that the bride and groom might rather have NOT had me and my husband there, than to have had my daughter with us.
So what I'm saying is that I'm grateful to the bride for letting me know right up front that she has specific ideas of what she wants, that she did it beautifully, and that I can feel very comfortable letting her know that I won't be able to be there.
Oh the GLORY of etiquette working like a well-oiled machine!
The bride (?) very gracefully explained in the invitation "adult reception to follow..." and (and this part I liked) "tie required". In 6 words she managed to tell EVERYONE that it is a formal event and that children - while they love them - are not invited.
We will be declining. It's nothing personal... I mean, actually it's entirely personal - but it's my personal... it's not a grudge against their persons, personal. At this time in my life - and more specifically at this time in my daughter's life - I'm not prepared to spend an evening away from her to participate in the reception of a loved (but not close) cousin. As a matter of fact, at this time in her life there are very few things that will entice me away from her for an entire evening. Just ask her father... he knows...
So, the coolest bit of this invitation is that I don't really imagine either the groom or the bride being horribly offended. I knew - let me rephrase KNEW - that when I made *my* wedding a no-kids event many of the people invited would not come, because they either:
a) wanted to be with their kids or
b) wanted to be at the wedding but coudn't find a sitter.
I was not offended. I just realised that priorities are priorities and there's no way I'm going to discredit ANYONE for wanting to be with their children. As a matter of fact, I seriously applauded those who didn't come because they wanted to be with their children - but that's mostly because I really wanted a small wedding to begin with, and blah blah blah blah blah... story for a different time.
Anywho... what I'm saying is that I'm not of the mind that weddings are events for children. I've taken my daughter to three of them (in the short 15 months of her life) and she has enjoyed zero. I'm also fairly certain that the brides and grooms felt no specific special blessing for having my daughter (who doesn't understand the concept of matrimony, or blessings, or pretty much more than a vague idea of love - and that's only recent) at their events. Moreover at one of the three events, I'm almost decided that the bride and groom might rather have NOT had me and my husband there, than to have had my daughter with us.
So what I'm saying is that I'm grateful to the bride for letting me know right up front that she has specific ideas of what she wants, that she did it beautifully, and that I can feel very comfortable letting her know that I won't be able to be there.
Oh the GLORY of etiquette working like a well-oiled machine!
18 July 2005
Potter Mom - Babble Fest
No... she doesn't throw clay on wheels (though she's always wanted to)... she reads the Harry Potter books. The Half-Blood Prince is sitting on her nightstand waiting... because she's as fair as she is fanatical, and won't set a book she's already reading aside (no matter how much she may dislike it, mind you) to read something she knows she'll like.
It's one of the reasons I've always known that even if I had siblings I'd never feel less special.
Anywho... Half-Blood showed up on our doorstep on Saturday - we pre-ordered it to get a good price (which we later discovered we could have got at the local Kroger when we did our grocery shopping on Saturday). And the amazing part - to me - was that I (who have yet to read even one page of the first book) was more keen on having her open it than she was herself. Possibly this is because of the book (the one she doesn't like) that she's alrady reading. I've never liked knowing what's for dessert while I'm trying to force myself through dinner.
Ooh - funny - that's where I find myself in my business life right now - but that's a story for another time.
Anywho... I've been thinking that I've been reading "tea leaves" for far too long, and it IS summer, and there are a lot of books that mom's gone through and probably it's time for me to add a new book to my list.
There's a book on the shelf called Eragon that I've been meaning to read... the second in the series Eldest is already slated to be delivered once it's released (Aug 23). It might be nice to read two books at a time... well, in order... you know what I mean.
Anywho... the short version is that I feel outpaced lately... and it's time for me to read.
I'll keep y'all posted.
It's one of the reasons I've always known that even if I had siblings I'd never feel less special.
Anywho... Half-Blood showed up on our doorstep on Saturday - we pre-ordered it to get a good price (which we later discovered we could have got at the local Kroger when we did our grocery shopping on Saturday). And the amazing part - to me - was that I (who have yet to read even one page of the first book) was more keen on having her open it than she was herself. Possibly this is because of the book (the one she doesn't like) that she's alrady reading. I've never liked knowing what's for dessert while I'm trying to force myself through dinner.
Ooh - funny - that's where I find myself in my business life right now - but that's a story for another time.
Anywho... I've been thinking that I've been reading "tea leaves" for far too long, and it IS summer, and there are a lot of books that mom's gone through and probably it's time for me to add a new book to my list.
There's a book on the shelf called Eragon that I've been meaning to read... the second in the series Eldest is already slated to be delivered once it's released (Aug 23). It might be nice to read two books at a time... well, in order... you know what I mean.
Anywho... the short version is that I feel outpaced lately... and it's time for me to read.
I'll keep y'all posted.
Evil Heat
It's a gazillion hot and humid degrees outside.
No one should be forced to work in this heat. I honestly believe that everyone who has an outside job should be given the day off today.
For me... it's the first time in months that I haven't felt compelled to wear a sweater in the chill of our office's air conditioning.
No one should be forced to work in this heat. I honestly believe that everyone who has an outside job should be given the day off today.
For me... it's the first time in months that I haven't felt compelled to wear a sweater in the chill of our office's air conditioning.
15 July 2005
More on Vacation - and me...
Ah the ocean. The warm, wavy, southern Atlantic... all full of sand and salt and people enjoying themselves... and WAVES.
We did other things while we were away. We swam in very creative (Disney-Imagineered) pools. We shopped. We even visited the Magic Kingdom. But nothing was more magic to me than the time on the beach.
We only went to the shore 3 times, but during each visit, I was treated with my daughter's delight, my mother's peace, my husband's adventuresome spirit, my father's smile, and a VERY healthy dose of sunshine, wave-hopping, and sand-play for myself.
There is something about the sea that revives my spirit, lifts my soul, and awakens me. I quite literally felt 15 again, giddy and bright and full of an enthusiastic love of everything (including the people) around me.
I'm not a person who carries gradiose plans. I live a relatively modest life (these days, at least) of pretty normal dimensions. I take immense pleasure in the company of my dearest friends. I'm consoled by a cup of tea and time with my journal. I have never wanted a life of wealth or fame or infamy. But in my deepest heart, right now (and possibly for some years to come) my dream, my hope, and my secretest of goals is to figure out how to find, purchase, and live in a house on the warm shores of the southern Atlantic.
We did other things while we were away. We swam in very creative (Disney-Imagineered) pools. We shopped. We even visited the Magic Kingdom. But nothing was more magic to me than the time on the beach.
We only went to the shore 3 times, but during each visit, I was treated with my daughter's delight, my mother's peace, my husband's adventuresome spirit, my father's smile, and a VERY healthy dose of sunshine, wave-hopping, and sand-play for myself.
There is something about the sea that revives my spirit, lifts my soul, and awakens me. I quite literally felt 15 again, giddy and bright and full of an enthusiastic love of everything (including the people) around me.
I'm not a person who carries gradiose plans. I live a relatively modest life (these days, at least) of pretty normal dimensions. I take immense pleasure in the company of my dearest friends. I'm consoled by a cup of tea and time with my journal. I have never wanted a life of wealth or fame or infamy. But in my deepest heart, right now (and possibly for some years to come) my dream, my hope, and my secretest of goals is to figure out how to find, purchase, and live in a house on the warm shores of the southern Atlantic.
Pink Dot's Special K - or - "I second that emotion"
Being a friend of Kassi, I have the crazy wonderful benefit of sometimes being able to figure out her crypticism. It utterly tickles me and works wonders for satisfying my latent detective-y urges.
Anywho -
I have had the privilege of knowing her K for many years... having met (AND developing an immediate crush on) and worked with K during a very bright period of my reckless youth. I have known and loved this person for more years, I think than either of us would care to acknowledge, because, quite frankly, it would mean that we would either have to admit to breaking several child labor laws, or worse, our true ages.
A genuine wit, a person of unquestionable judgment, beautiful morals, unbelievable creativity, breathtaking intelligence, and the embodiment of all things graceful; I have only ever felt absolute delight in the distinct honor of being able to call K one of my best friends.
And now for a true confession:
There is a chance that I will burn in hell (or at least inhabit - most likely in chains - one of hell's brass towers) for the undeniable envy I experience EVERY TIME I think about Kassi being able to spend time with K on a daily basis at work. Fortunately, that will be after I'm dead, and it being too hot to live won't matter much.
Anywho -
I have had the privilege of knowing her K for many years... having met (AND developing an immediate crush on) and worked with K during a very bright period of my reckless youth. I have known and loved this person for more years, I think than either of us would care to acknowledge, because, quite frankly, it would mean that we would either have to admit to breaking several child labor laws, or worse, our true ages.
A genuine wit, a person of unquestionable judgment, beautiful morals, unbelievable creativity, breathtaking intelligence, and the embodiment of all things graceful; I have only ever felt absolute delight in the distinct honor of being able to call K one of my best friends.
And now for a true confession:
There is a chance that I will burn in hell (or at least inhabit - most likely in chains - one of hell's brass towers) for the undeniable envy I experience EVERY TIME I think about Kassi being able to spend time with K on a daily basis at work. Fortunately, that will be after I'm dead, and it being too hot to live won't matter much.
12 July 2005
Homecoming
It's not really.
I have actually FOUND my home... it's located on the sunny shores of a warm ocean, with the purr and roar of waves crashing and the salted smell of the sea wafting up.
I was not built for Michigan.
I'm only hours back in my home state (born and bred here) and aching for the far away sea-side bliss I so recently left behind.
More on vacation when I stop missing it so.
I have actually FOUND my home... it's located on the sunny shores of a warm ocean, with the purr and roar of waves crashing and the salted smell of the sea wafting up.
I was not built for Michigan.
I'm only hours back in my home state (born and bred here) and aching for the far away sea-side bliss I so recently left behind.
More on vacation when I stop missing it so.
29 June 2005
Oh - And!
My new SHORT hairs are ultra-cool (as in the opposite of hot) and really really cute on me.
MAMF
Middle Aged Married Frump
It has dawned on me that this - to much of the world - is who I am.
I am no longer the svelte size 6 in my 20's with too much energy and an insanely high tolerance for a good Gin and Tonic - or four - or more, and the unyielding urge to dance, dance, dance. My entries are not peppered with amusing stories about my sexual partners and our charming banter. I, quite frankly, do not know whether dark blue jeans or sharply creased white cotton (linen?) pants are all the rage this season... though I DO still know enough to understand that the women who actually believe that Khaki can be "pretty" have been sadly misled by too much Sarah Jessica Parker - who doesn't even know how to choose a good color for her hair - thank you!
My life is my family, my household, my cat - who is not named after any fashion designer, but a marauding invader because I thought "Ghengis" would be a cute name for a fuzzy little fluff of kitten. Advice: never name your cat something you do not want him to grow into. My life is my work - not because I have a cool job but because it sustains my family, my household, and my kick ass new car.
My life is a collection of moments: amusing, profound, painful, frustrating, embarrassing, joyous, insightful, intellectual, ridiculous, quiet, parochial, and sometimes even sublime.
With THAT defining my life - I don't need to be 20, I can get by with ONE good G&T every now and again, a pair of comfortable trousers and a mushy soft cotton button down short sleeved shirt, a mean assed cat and the love and support and mutual admiration of my husband, my daughter, and my parents.
It has dawned on me that this - to much of the world - is who I am.
I am no longer the svelte size 6 in my 20's with too much energy and an insanely high tolerance for a good Gin and Tonic - or four - or more, and the unyielding urge to dance, dance, dance. My entries are not peppered with amusing stories about my sexual partners and our charming banter. I, quite frankly, do not know whether dark blue jeans or sharply creased white cotton (linen?) pants are all the rage this season... though I DO still know enough to understand that the women who actually believe that Khaki can be "pretty" have been sadly misled by too much Sarah Jessica Parker - who doesn't even know how to choose a good color for her hair - thank you!
My life is my family, my household, my cat - who is not named after any fashion designer, but a marauding invader because I thought "Ghengis" would be a cute name for a fuzzy little fluff of kitten. Advice: never name your cat something you do not want him to grow into. My life is my work - not because I have a cool job but because it sustains my family, my household, and my kick ass new car.
My life is a collection of moments: amusing, profound, painful, frustrating, embarrassing, joyous, insightful, intellectual, ridiculous, quiet, parochial, and sometimes even sublime.
With THAT defining my life - I don't need to be 20, I can get by with ONE good G&T every now and again, a pair of comfortable trousers and a mushy soft cotton button down short sleeved shirt, a mean assed cat and the love and support and mutual admiration of my husband, my daughter, and my parents.
28 June 2005
Headless Hen
The busy-ness has begun.
Yesterday was grocery shopping for the rest of the week, and a new pool ladder.
Tonight is a haircut and a game.
Tomorrow is laundry, prescription, and packing (and game night for my husband).
Thursday is a facial (two - one for me, one for my husband), laundry, and packing.
Friday is a doctor's appointment, laundry, and packing.
Somehwere in there we also need to collect the car from the shop, purchase a handful of greeting cards, make sure the mail and the milk are stopped, the plants will be watered, and the town car (baby seat - ugh!) is scheduled to come get us.
Vacation Rocks!
Yesterday was grocery shopping for the rest of the week, and a new pool ladder.
Tonight is a haircut and a game.
Tomorrow is laundry, prescription, and packing (and game night for my husband).
Thursday is a facial (two - one for me, one for my husband), laundry, and packing.
Friday is a doctor's appointment, laundry, and packing.
Somehwere in there we also need to collect the car from the shop, purchase a handful of greeting cards, make sure the mail and the milk are stopped, the plants will be watered, and the town car (baby seat - ugh!) is scheduled to come get us.
Vacation Rocks!
24 June 2005
Oh No Ozone
WARNING: there is a possibility that this post will sound outright silly to some of you
grrr
It's going to be so hot today that it's already been anounced that it's an ozone action day. This means that in spite of my plans, I most likely will NOT be mowing the lawn today... instead probably spending the afternoon (after work) in the pool with my mother, daughter, and possibly husband.
But what can so suck about that?
It means that I'll likely be mowing the lawn on Saturday... unless "they" declare IT an ozone action day too, which would put me back to Sunday... PAJAMA Sunday.
Granted, I don't have to abide by the rules of ozone action day, most no one I know DOES... but in the past, except for the odd emergency, *I* have. It's such a little thing to do to help make a difference.
I'm still not sure.
Today I might break the rules.
The lawn is looking pretty manky... like, on the verge of uncontrollable in a day or two... and it's actually been long enough since the last summer rain that it might be dry enough to suck up into the collection bins instead of gumming up in the cutting area and the first half of the sucky-uppey tube. It's supposed to rain on Saturday... (I even heard SOME reports calling for rain today) and that would NOT do.
I think I might break the rules.
hmmm
grrr
It's going to be so hot today that it's already been anounced that it's an ozone action day. This means that in spite of my plans, I most likely will NOT be mowing the lawn today... instead probably spending the afternoon (after work) in the pool with my mother, daughter, and possibly husband.
But what can so suck about that?
It means that I'll likely be mowing the lawn on Saturday... unless "they" declare IT an ozone action day too, which would put me back to Sunday... PAJAMA Sunday.
Granted, I don't have to abide by the rules of ozone action day, most no one I know DOES... but in the past, except for the odd emergency, *I* have. It's such a little thing to do to help make a difference.
I'm still not sure.
Today I might break the rules.
The lawn is looking pretty manky... like, on the verge of uncontrollable in a day or two... and it's actually been long enough since the last summer rain that it might be dry enough to suck up into the collection bins instead of gumming up in the cutting area and the first half of the sucky-uppey tube. It's supposed to rain on Saturday... (I even heard SOME reports calling for rain today) and that would NOT do.
I think I might break the rules.
hmmm
22 June 2005
Survivor Guilt
My dad started a second job yesterday.
He was laid off some time ago - in the big auto-worker cuts. He's a skilled tradesman and has a good contract. Part of his contract says that if the company lays him off for more than a year, he goes back to work but not HIS work. So for the past almost 9 months he's been working at a plethora of different jobs; some of them cool (like re-building a barn for a local petting farm after a horrible fire), some of them not so cool (like sweeping the parking lot).
Thing is, while it's cool that he's working, he's only been working 40 hours a week... compared to the 60+ that he used to work.
A big cramp on the paternal finances.
Fortunately my mom is something of a financial genius, and they've been able to survive almost two years of my dad not "working".
Lately, though, things are getting scary for them. So my dad took on a second job. A production job. The kind of job he hasn't had in over 20 years. As a second job.
He's exhausted. Day one beat him up pretty bad. And yeah, I could think to myself, well - it's just because it's just day one, it will get better after a week or two.
But I'm not thinking that... I'm thinking "I could get another job and help them out." I'm thinking, "I could rework my budget again, and find a way to pay my mom for looking after the baby while I'm at work."
No - I haven't been through some traumatic experience like a hurricane or a tsunami or a war... but I DO feel the guilt of one who sits at home, after a day's work, in the loving company of family.
He was laid off some time ago - in the big auto-worker cuts. He's a skilled tradesman and has a good contract. Part of his contract says that if the company lays him off for more than a year, he goes back to work but not HIS work. So for the past almost 9 months he's been working at a plethora of different jobs; some of them cool (like re-building a barn for a local petting farm after a horrible fire), some of them not so cool (like sweeping the parking lot).
Thing is, while it's cool that he's working, he's only been working 40 hours a week... compared to the 60+ that he used to work.
A big cramp on the paternal finances.
Fortunately my mom is something of a financial genius, and they've been able to survive almost two years of my dad not "working".
Lately, though, things are getting scary for them. So my dad took on a second job. A production job. The kind of job he hasn't had in over 20 years. As a second job.
He's exhausted. Day one beat him up pretty bad. And yeah, I could think to myself, well - it's just because it's just day one, it will get better after a week or two.
But I'm not thinking that... I'm thinking "I could get another job and help them out." I'm thinking, "I could rework my budget again, and find a way to pay my mom for looking after the baby while I'm at work."
No - I haven't been through some traumatic experience like a hurricane or a tsunami or a war... but I DO feel the guilt of one who sits at home, after a day's work, in the loving company of family.
20 June 2005
Exhaustatron
Oh heavens, busy weekends do me in.
It wasn't even like I had to run a gazillion errands, or scour the house, or attend to the mountain of laundry still waiting for attention. It was family...
Saturday was normal for about 2 hours... which were occupied by waking up, making breakfast, and eating breakfast. After that, we got busy. First up - Father's Day shopping.
For any who know me, they KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that I do NOT leave gift shopping until the last minute. It's not my way... never has been, never should have been. Then I got married.
For my personal needs, the shopping was short and easy... 4 cards and some scratchie lottery tickets for my dad. I had had my husband's gifts from me for the better part of two months, and his gift from my daughter for a month at least. Ok... I needed to get some wrapping paper too.
So we spent much of the morning deciding what my daughter was going to "buy" for her granddads and then getting it. No - she's not really all that equipped to make these decisions herself... she's only just over a year old. Her dad was supposed to come up with the ideas... since I had managed her gifts (including my own from her) for Mother's Day. When we finally decided what to get the only hindrance was the fact that I had left my wallet in my car and by the time I'd retrieved it my husband had already paid for my purchase.
** I know I should have been grateful that he covered the tab for me, and I am, but at the same time, this practice (in which both my husband and my mother participate) makes me crazy angry, because:
a) I LIKE being financially independent, being able to afford and buy things WITH MY OWN MONEY
and
b) if you're GOING to pay for something for me, freakin' stop me from running the double football field to and from the car BEFORE... I... LEAVE!!!
Rant complete ***
To make up for it, I bought him and iced coffee.
Anywho... after this it was off to Hallmark to get some cards. I got one, two, three, four, five:
(hubby from me, daddy from our daughter, my dad from me, my dad from our daughter, his dad from our daughter) in about 10 minutes. Then I took our little girl to go pick out wrapping paper and keep her occupied while her dad got one card for his dad. (OK, and replaced the card I got "from baby for Papa" because he found a much cuter one.)
I love my husband... I love him more than I have ever loved any man ever... but he's SO bad at selecting cards. Not that he makes bad selections, quite the contrary... but he takes a REALLY LONG TIME to do it.
I honestly think it's a difference in our style. I find something generally pretty good, and decide... "yeah, for something I didn't write, this comes pretty close to covering how I feel about person X." I think my husband actually believes that someone at Hallmark (or other greeting card publishing companies) knows exactly how he feels about person X. Or maybe I just have a "the right card" divining rod in my fingers... I don't know... but it had to have taken us a half an hour in the card shop... which was JUST ABOUT more than our little girl could handle.
Had I known they had a "coloring table" I might have bought my husband enough time to look through another couple dozen cards, but she was tearing around the store looking for more and more stuffed animals and hell bent for leather to get mama to sweat... and my husband ended up just 'up and deciding' on a card for his dad from us.
Cashed out and on our way... trying to figure out what to get for his dad from the two of us.
My husband had seen the perfect gift on a WAY LESS THAN perfect website... which resulted in his not being able to get said perfect gift... but he came up with an alternate plan - two actually - and we decided that we could certainly get something acceptable - GOOD EVEN - at a giant sporting goods establishment along the way. So one quick stop to get lottery tickets and we were done shopping for the day.
Then... ugh... dreaded family visit. I'm not a big fan of my extended family as a whole. There are some members that I ADORE... who are good, generally nice, and really wonderful people. There are other members of my family who I don't really care to deal with... ever. There was, fortunately, a good mix of these people at the party on Saturday... and while we only stayed for a few hours... I'm good for another several months.
Yesterday - Father's Day - was long.
We woke at a decent hour, hit the road, stopped for SUCCESSFUL (yay!) shopping for my husband's dad, entertained the baby with a statue of enormous bears fighting over a dead moose, washed the car, and continued on the journey... stopping several times for juice and a diaper change, strawberries, and a diaper run - since the aforementioned diaper change a) was unnecessary, and b) resulted in a casualty when a tab tore off of an otherwise mint condition diaper. I could have packed more to begin with, but I was banning contingencies from my morning. I was stupid.
After insufficient napping on Saturday (because of the errands and party) and the early start (without our usual breakfast) my daughter was inclined to irritability yesterday. Combine that with a 2 and a half hour drive (to her paternal grandparents' house) and her reluctance (for whatever reason - most likely the frequent stops) to take a proper nap in the car, and you will understand that it was NO SMALL MIRACLE that she was beautifully behaved throughout the entire visit.
We spent a lot of time outside playing in the grass (one of her simple pleasures) , we had a nice lunch/supper, we had ice cream, the dad's opened their gifts (the "quick pick" card was considered perfect!), we played in a small park, my daughter made a fridge-picture for her grandmother... and 5 hours later we packed up to go.
She was good - even still - for about a minute and half. Then she started crying. Five minutes later she was asleep. We drove in sleeping-baby-bliss for the better part of half of our drive home.
When we stopped for dinner - more accurately, when she heard the phrase CHOCOLATE MILK - my daughter woke up, pleasant enough and hungry. She ate some, she drank some, she started crying. She cried more or less for the next 45 minutes - which should have been between an hour and an hour and a half.
Screaming baby + stressed husband = smashed accelerator.
She stopped crying when my husband started singing to her. She perked up when we turned onto our road. She was playful once we got out of the car. Too many hours in the car seat (which we call "the box").
After all of this, a bath, some strawberries (those same berries I bought along the way earlier in the day), and off to bed.
Yawn...
It wasn't even like I had to run a gazillion errands, or scour the house, or attend to the mountain of laundry still waiting for attention. It was family...
Saturday was normal for about 2 hours... which were occupied by waking up, making breakfast, and eating breakfast. After that, we got busy. First up - Father's Day shopping.
For any who know me, they KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that I do NOT leave gift shopping until the last minute. It's not my way... never has been, never should have been. Then I got married.
For my personal needs, the shopping was short and easy... 4 cards and some scratchie lottery tickets for my dad. I had had my husband's gifts from me for the better part of two months, and his gift from my daughter for a month at least. Ok... I needed to get some wrapping paper too.
So we spent much of the morning deciding what my daughter was going to "buy" for her granddads and then getting it. No - she's not really all that equipped to make these decisions herself... she's only just over a year old. Her dad was supposed to come up with the ideas... since I had managed her gifts (including my own from her) for Mother's Day. When we finally decided what to get the only hindrance was the fact that I had left my wallet in my car and by the time I'd retrieved it my husband had already paid for my purchase.
** I know I should have been grateful that he covered the tab for me, and I am, but at the same time, this practice (in which both my husband and my mother participate) makes me crazy angry, because:
a) I LIKE being financially independent, being able to afford and buy things WITH MY OWN MONEY
and
b) if you're GOING to pay for something for me, freakin' stop me from running the double football field to and from the car BEFORE... I... LEAVE!!!
Rant complete ***
To make up for it, I bought him and iced coffee.
Anywho... after this it was off to Hallmark to get some cards. I got one, two, three, four, five:
(hubby from me, daddy from our daughter, my dad from me, my dad from our daughter, his dad from our daughter) in about 10 minutes. Then I took our little girl to go pick out wrapping paper and keep her occupied while her dad got one card for his dad. (OK, and replaced the card I got "from baby for Papa" because he found a much cuter one.)
I love my husband... I love him more than I have ever loved any man ever... but he's SO bad at selecting cards. Not that he makes bad selections, quite the contrary... but he takes a REALLY LONG TIME to do it.
I honestly think it's a difference in our style. I find something generally pretty good, and decide... "yeah, for something I didn't write, this comes pretty close to covering how I feel about person X." I think my husband actually believes that someone at Hallmark (or other greeting card publishing companies) knows exactly how he feels about person X. Or maybe I just have a "the right card" divining rod in my fingers... I don't know... but it had to have taken us a half an hour in the card shop... which was JUST ABOUT more than our little girl could handle.
Had I known they had a "coloring table" I might have bought my husband enough time to look through another couple dozen cards, but she was tearing around the store looking for more and more stuffed animals and hell bent for leather to get mama to sweat... and my husband ended up just 'up and deciding' on a card for his dad from us.
Cashed out and on our way... trying to figure out what to get for his dad from the two of us.
My husband had seen the perfect gift on a WAY LESS THAN perfect website... which resulted in his not being able to get said perfect gift... but he came up with an alternate plan - two actually - and we decided that we could certainly get something acceptable - GOOD EVEN - at a giant sporting goods establishment along the way. So one quick stop to get lottery tickets and we were done shopping for the day.
Then... ugh... dreaded family visit. I'm not a big fan of my extended family as a whole. There are some members that I ADORE... who are good, generally nice, and really wonderful people. There are other members of my family who I don't really care to deal with... ever. There was, fortunately, a good mix of these people at the party on Saturday... and while we only stayed for a few hours... I'm good for another several months.
Yesterday - Father's Day - was long.
We woke at a decent hour, hit the road, stopped for SUCCESSFUL (yay!) shopping for my husband's dad, entertained the baby with a statue of enormous bears fighting over a dead moose, washed the car, and continued on the journey... stopping several times for juice and a diaper change, strawberries, and a diaper run - since the aforementioned diaper change a) was unnecessary, and b) resulted in a casualty when a tab tore off of an otherwise mint condition diaper. I could have packed more to begin with, but I was banning contingencies from my morning. I was stupid.
After insufficient napping on Saturday (because of the errands and party) and the early start (without our usual breakfast) my daughter was inclined to irritability yesterday. Combine that with a 2 and a half hour drive (to her paternal grandparents' house) and her reluctance (for whatever reason - most likely the frequent stops) to take a proper nap in the car, and you will understand that it was NO SMALL MIRACLE that she was beautifully behaved throughout the entire visit.
We spent a lot of time outside playing in the grass (one of her simple pleasures) , we had a nice lunch/supper, we had ice cream, the dad's opened their gifts (the "quick pick" card was considered perfect!), we played in a small park, my daughter made a fridge-picture for her grandmother... and 5 hours later we packed up to go.
She was good - even still - for about a minute and half. Then she started crying. Five minutes later she was asleep. We drove in sleeping-baby-bliss for the better part of half of our drive home.
When we stopped for dinner - more accurately, when she heard the phrase CHOCOLATE MILK - my daughter woke up, pleasant enough and hungry. She ate some, she drank some, she started crying. She cried more or less for the next 45 minutes - which should have been between an hour and an hour and a half.
Screaming baby + stressed husband = smashed accelerator.
She stopped crying when my husband started singing to her. She perked up when we turned onto our road. She was playful once we got out of the car. Too many hours in the car seat (which we call "the box").
After all of this, a bath, some strawberries (those same berries I bought along the way earlier in the day), and off to bed.
Yawn...
16 June 2005
Butt-Kick Day
I would normally use more colorful terminology, but I think my mom might be reading my blog. Te he.
Anywho - I've had a really great day... and I'm happy.
Just in case any of you were curious.
:)
Anywho - I've had a really great day... and I'm happy.
Just in case any of you were curious.
:)
The Man
Yesterday I had lunch with my friend Q to talk her down from the ledge "the man" had set her out onto.
Her rough definition of "the man" (I have since deleted the e-mail containing the ACTUAL definition - mostly for her protection) is: appliances that don't work, stupid nice and well meaning people who can't do their jobs, and faulty cooling systems... and this very important element - things just not doing what they're meant to do.
I've been suffering her "man" a lot myself lately... though in general many of the stupid people plaguing my life are neither nice nor well intentioned.
So the suprise lunch meeting was very pleasant. It gave me a chance to evade the man, to comiserate with a really good friend, and to laugh about the things that always make us laugh so we don't have to worry about them instead. And I got to give her a gift that I had purchased just the night before because when I saw it I thought of her and as far as I'm concerned that's one of the best ways to get a gift for someone.
There's really no story here... just the accomplishment of having turned around a day that was headed south for each of us... yeah, no story, just a happy ending.
Her rough definition of "the man" (I have since deleted the e-mail containing the ACTUAL definition - mostly for her protection) is: appliances that don't work, stupid nice and well meaning people who can't do their jobs, and faulty cooling systems... and this very important element - things just not doing what they're meant to do.
I've been suffering her "man" a lot myself lately... though in general many of the stupid people plaguing my life are neither nice nor well intentioned.
So the suprise lunch meeting was very pleasant. It gave me a chance to evade the man, to comiserate with a really good friend, and to laugh about the things that always make us laugh so we don't have to worry about them instead. And I got to give her a gift that I had purchased just the night before because when I saw it I thought of her and as far as I'm concerned that's one of the best ways to get a gift for someone.
There's really no story here... just the accomplishment of having turned around a day that was headed south for each of us... yeah, no story, just a happy ending.
14 June 2005
Morning Drive
For the first eight or so miles of my drive, the roads are flanked by large trees and a few open meadowey fields. In general it's a pretty drive.
This morning, much of the sky was overcast, holding the very real promise of the heavy rain storms Michigan in the summer is often wont to deliver. Yet through a rather small break in the clouds, honeyed sunlight filtered down onto my world, making the trees almost glow against the backdrop of foul-weather grey and the rising mist of our heated earth under the cool caress of early morning air. Needless to say, the visual was breathtaking - so much so that I almost forgot for a moment that I was driving off to work, rather than into some happily ever after specially designed for me by the imagineers at Disney.
It was what I commonly refer to as a Parrish morning (there are, of course, Parrish evenings too, but I haven't had one recently enough to write about it). The name comes from a favorite painter of mine (and I'm sure countless others) named Maxfield Parrish. You might be amazed at how familiar some of his work is.
As for me, I'm just reveling in the memory of this morning's drive... and the magical way it made me forget my destination.
At least until the thunderstorms (another favorite) start...
13 June 2005
Meet Elliot
A shiny new Pontiac Vibe... jam-packed with lots of stuff; some I need, some I just wanted.
He is an amazing machine... and I am SO lucky and blessed to own him. Lucky because he happened to be on the lot, and I happened to be able to finance him the only way I could have afforded to take him home. Blessed, because I have the support of a husband who had no issue with my accessing our emergency funds to handle the up-front I needed to be able to finance him the only way I could have afforded to take him home.
Why Elliot? Partly because he told me so, and partly because that IS the name of Pete's dragon.
10 June 2005
Self Discovery...
I am a control freak.
This is not news to anyone who knows me. Sometimes it surprises me - even though I know me pretty well - but not much.
I have recently discovered new facets of my freakdom, however, while dealing with the insurance folk.
facet 1
I am able to allow others to do things that are not really all that pleasant
Case in point
Yesterday my father and my husband and I stripped my car of all the good/usable/meaningful stuff still in or on it. I didn't do much of it myself, and the only direction I felt compelled to give was - "if it looks like junk, it probably is, and you can leave it."
facet 2
I REALLY do not like to wait for information.
Case -
I have been all but hounding the folks at the body shop, the claims adjuster, my claim advisor, and any/every one who might possibly be able to walk me through the maze of insurance claims.
I want information and I want it now.
facet 3 (an amazing one)
My desire for information is stronger than my desire for money.
I know that I will be receiving SOME offer from the insurance company for my destroyed car. I also know that it won't be much (which may be influencing my patience level). I also know that I will probably need to haggle with them to make sure I get something more than a token pittance, as my car is rather weak on the resale value side of things. Anyway... I have been significantly MORE patient with the idea of receiving the check (which won't ever hit MY hands anyway - going instead to the financial company who still, technically, owns my car) than I am with the fact that I desperately want to know how much they plan on offering me. The number is very important to me, not because I'm planning a shopping spree and consider that I will be rolling in cash. No. The number is important to me because it is a piece of the puzzle... it is a determining factor in what steps I am to take next... in my plans for the rest of the month - possibly the rest of the summer... maybe even the rest of the year.
And what's worse... I probably won't get that number until after the weekend... and even then, I am pretty sure it won't be the final number.
Ugh.
I know that I am a control freak because I have a deep loathing for uncertainty.
Not that I don't like surprises... or even occasional spontaneity... that's fine.
I just really don't like it when I don't have any idea of what might be around the corner.
I think I might be becoming boring.
hmmm
This is not news to anyone who knows me. Sometimes it surprises me - even though I know me pretty well - but not much.
I have recently discovered new facets of my freakdom, however, while dealing with the insurance folk.
facet 1
I am able to allow others to do things that are not really all that pleasant
Case in point
Yesterday my father and my husband and I stripped my car of all the good/usable/meaningful stuff still in or on it. I didn't do much of it myself, and the only direction I felt compelled to give was - "if it looks like junk, it probably is, and you can leave it."
facet 2
I REALLY do not like to wait for information.
Case -
I have been all but hounding the folks at the body shop, the claims adjuster, my claim advisor, and any/every one who might possibly be able to walk me through the maze of insurance claims.
I want information and I want it now.
facet 3 (an amazing one)
My desire for information is stronger than my desire for money.
I know that I will be receiving SOME offer from the insurance company for my destroyed car. I also know that it won't be much (which may be influencing my patience level). I also know that I will probably need to haggle with them to make sure I get something more than a token pittance, as my car is rather weak on the resale value side of things. Anyway... I have been significantly MORE patient with the idea of receiving the check (which won't ever hit MY hands anyway - going instead to the financial company who still, technically, owns my car) than I am with the fact that I desperately want to know how much they plan on offering me. The number is very important to me, not because I'm planning a shopping spree and consider that I will be rolling in cash. No. The number is important to me because it is a piece of the puzzle... it is a determining factor in what steps I am to take next... in my plans for the rest of the month - possibly the rest of the summer... maybe even the rest of the year.
And what's worse... I probably won't get that number until after the weekend... and even then, I am pretty sure it won't be the final number.
Ugh.
I know that I am a control freak because I have a deep loathing for uncertainty.
Not that I don't like surprises... or even occasional spontaneity... that's fine.
I just really don't like it when I don't have any idea of what might be around the corner.
I think I might be becoming boring.
hmmm
08 June 2005
Wednesday Grey
I realised when I was better than halfway to work (which is about a 50 mile drive) that I have my husband's game bag in his car... which normally would make perfect sense except for the fact that I am driving his car.
It was meant to be mostly sunny this morning, clouding up and storming later rather than earlier. Generally the "right now" clouds wouldn't bother me, but it's only quarter to 8 and it's already been an ugly day. Perhaps the storm will be a doozie and I'll at least have that to enjoy.
I feel, today, as if I had actually been hit by the truck, as opposed to choosing the concrete wall. The stiffness in my shoulders and neck has extended to the middle portions of my back (what my granddad would have called my wings) and it feels as if it's deeper in the muscle now. Still, it's only irritating, not agonizing, so I'm going to clam up on the complaints.
Going to go get some work done now.
It was meant to be mostly sunny this morning, clouding up and storming later rather than earlier. Generally the "right now" clouds wouldn't bother me, but it's only quarter to 8 and it's already been an ugly day. Perhaps the storm will be a doozie and I'll at least have that to enjoy.
I feel, today, as if I had actually been hit by the truck, as opposed to choosing the concrete wall. The stiffness in my shoulders and neck has extended to the middle portions of my back (what my granddad would have called my wings) and it feels as if it's deeper in the muscle now. Still, it's only irritating, not agonizing, so I'm going to clam up on the complaints.
Going to go get some work done now.
07 June 2005
Vroom... Too
Have you ever noticed that one of the worst things you can do for your car is take care of it? No, seriously, how many times have you suffered an automotive breakdown right after you filled the tank, or changed the oil, or even done something as small as installing new wiper blades?
Or - as my husband noted - doesn't it always seem that you car knows when you get a pay raise (or in my experience, have a little "extra" cash saved up, "for a rainy day")?
Last week I had the oil changed on my car. This past weekend, I topped up the fuel, had my dad change the air filter, and I installed new wiper blades.
There is even a remote chance that I will be receiving a merit increase this week, or next.
Dutiful to the end - literally - yesterday Buddha and I were in an accident.
Ok... to be fair, it's not like Buddha suddenly went suicidal and rammed me into the concrete barrier between North and South I-75. It took an 18 wheeler who either didn't know about the fact that he can't hold a sharp turn or just didn't care that he couldn't pushing more than half way into my lane, forcing me into the decision of being hit by an 18 wheeler or running up onto the shoulder and possibly into the concrete divider.
I suffered the minorest of injuries. I have a bruise on my left elbow where I hit the door, and a weird case shoulder whiplash (the impact was primarily on the front left fender, so I didn't hit head on, or even sideways) and I'm stiff and a little sore.
Poor Buddha... he looks rather like a stroke victim... half of his "face" up, half down. During the accident I must have gone up on the divider some, then sort of slid down afterward. The driver's side of the front end sits about 10 inches higher than passenger's side... sigh.
My overall dealings with my insurance company have been pretty good, actually... and I feel rather well taken care of by them. We'll see at things progress, but for the time being I'm inclined to maintain my good opinion of them.
So... I'm a day late on my week's work, already, and MUST get much done this week... which means, of course, that it's time for me draw this episode to a close.
Be safe...
Or - as my husband noted - doesn't it always seem that you car knows when you get a pay raise (or in my experience, have a little "extra" cash saved up, "for a rainy day")?
Last week I had the oil changed on my car. This past weekend, I topped up the fuel, had my dad change the air filter, and I installed new wiper blades.
There is even a remote chance that I will be receiving a merit increase this week, or next.
Dutiful to the end - literally - yesterday Buddha and I were in an accident.
Ok... to be fair, it's not like Buddha suddenly went suicidal and rammed me into the concrete barrier between North and South I-75. It took an 18 wheeler who either didn't know about the fact that he can't hold a sharp turn or just didn't care that he couldn't pushing more than half way into my lane, forcing me into the decision of being hit by an 18 wheeler or running up onto the shoulder and possibly into the concrete divider.
I suffered the minorest of injuries. I have a bruise on my left elbow where I hit the door, and a weird case shoulder whiplash (the impact was primarily on the front left fender, so I didn't hit head on, or even sideways) and I'm stiff and a little sore.
Poor Buddha... he looks rather like a stroke victim... half of his "face" up, half down. During the accident I must have gone up on the divider some, then sort of slid down afterward. The driver's side of the front end sits about 10 inches higher than passenger's side... sigh.
My overall dealings with my insurance company have been pretty good, actually... and I feel rather well taken care of by them. We'll see at things progress, but for the time being I'm inclined to maintain my good opinion of them.
So... I'm a day late on my week's work, already, and MUST get much done this week... which means, of course, that it's time for me draw this episode to a close.
Be safe...
02 June 2005
Game Night
Every other Wednesday (mostly) (including last night) my husband has the wonderful opportunity to get together with some of his (many) friends and play an RPG based on a cartoon I never watched as a child - Robotech.
To be fair, there are MANY cartoons I never watched as a child.
To be double fair, my husband was a child 5 years after I was, and a boy, and probably more interested in cartoons than I would ever be, and was exposed to an entirely different set and sort of cartoons than I.
To be final fair, I doubt that I would ever participate in any game based on any cartoon, because
a) I only play one RPG because it's all the time I care to spend being someone else
b) In general, I don't enjoy cartoons
c) If I did play, I would probably be cast as a care bear, or Strawberry Shortcake, or (heaven forbid) some HORRIBLE Hannah Barbera / Warner Bros. hybrid-creation... just to make me cringe.
From what I understand, the players (and my husband) rather enjoy the game, and that makes me smile. I really like hearing the stories about the game (even if they occasionally lull me to sleep) and, right now, am joyfully anticipating this evening's retelling of last night's game. I have even considered asking to attend a game just to listen to the way he tells the story and experience the unfolding of events first hand. Probably, though, I'm guessing that he wouldn't let me just watch, and I'd have to play some un-important, ultimately expendable character... most likely a space version of a care bear, or S. Shortcake, or etc.
So - yay for my honey's social night... as for me... I'll just stick to being a post-modern vampire wiht a fondness for Nine Inch Nails, Grey Goose, and fast - fast - cars.
To be fair, there are MANY cartoons I never watched as a child.
To be double fair, my husband was a child 5 years after I was, and a boy, and probably more interested in cartoons than I would ever be, and was exposed to an entirely different set and sort of cartoons than I.
To be final fair, I doubt that I would ever participate in any game based on any cartoon, because
a) I only play one RPG because it's all the time I care to spend being someone else
b) In general, I don't enjoy cartoons
c) If I did play, I would probably be cast as a care bear, or Strawberry Shortcake, or (heaven forbid) some HORRIBLE Hannah Barbera / Warner Bros. hybrid-creation... just to make me cringe.
From what I understand, the players (and my husband) rather enjoy the game, and that makes me smile. I really like hearing the stories about the game (even if they occasionally lull me to sleep) and, right now, am joyfully anticipating this evening's retelling of last night's game. I have even considered asking to attend a game just to listen to the way he tells the story and experience the unfolding of events first hand. Probably, though, I'm guessing that he wouldn't let me just watch, and I'd have to play some un-important, ultimately expendable character... most likely a space version of a care bear, or S. Shortcake, or etc.
So - yay for my honey's social night... as for me... I'll just stick to being a post-modern vampire wiht a fondness for Nine Inch Nails, Grey Goose, and fast - fast - cars.
31 May 2005
Nice Relaxing...
One of my favorite oxymorons is "a nice relaxing 3 day weekend."
Ok, so it's not ALWAYS an oxymoron, but generally, when it coincides with a National holiday, there's no way I'm going to be able to relax.
This past weekend I:
- cut down and cut up some trees
- planted about a gazillion plants including several shrubs and at least 2 flats of flowers
- went on no less than 4 shopping trips
- attended a graduation party
- barbequed
- weeded an enormous flower bed
- watched my baby eat dirt
And no, not all of it was strenuous... as a matter of fact, most of it was wonderfully enjoyable. But at the same time, my armpits are sore, and my allergies are KICKING MY BUTT, and...
well, in short, I could use a couple of days to recuperate.
The good news is that it's already Tuesday... only three more days to go!
Ok, so it's not ALWAYS an oxymoron, but generally, when it coincides with a National holiday, there's no way I'm going to be able to relax.
This past weekend I:
- cut down and cut up some trees
- planted about a gazillion plants including several shrubs and at least 2 flats of flowers
- went on no less than 4 shopping trips
- attended a graduation party
- barbequed
- weeded an enormous flower bed
- watched my baby eat dirt
And no, not all of it was strenuous... as a matter of fact, most of it was wonderfully enjoyable. But at the same time, my armpits are sore, and my allergies are KICKING MY BUTT, and...
well, in short, I could use a couple of days to recuperate.
The good news is that it's already Tuesday... only three more days to go!
26 May 2005
Vroom...
Oh yeah... I love being a car owner.
I love the rush of shifting into 5th and cruising along a wide open road with the windows down and the volume up. The only thing missing is the flip-top and the 6th gear.
Unfortunately...
Oh Sigh...
Being a car owner, being a happy car owner (even with only five speeds), has a significant down-side. Occasionally bad things happen to good cars.
I was just zooming along, on my way to work this morning, minding my own business and being pleased by the fact that the third lane on this stretch of my commute had recently been re-opened. The next thing I know, there's a piece of concrete (recently kicked up by the Black Caddy two cars in front of me) flying at my car with insane velocity, and I had no place to go and no time to get there.
Then, Oh God!, then the sickening crunch as the concrete chunk took a couple of bites out of the front fender (passenger side) of my sweet little car.
I know, and yes, I am VERY grateful that it hit the body of the car... had it been a foot higher I would likely have had a chunk of concrete through the windshield and possibly through the passenger seat.
I pulled over, hoping beyond hope that it was just a little dent. It's not. If I had a camera with me right now, I'd post the ugly gash that runs along the fender... just at about the top of the tire, so you could see, too. The guy in the black Caddy pulled over too - his car had a flat - most likely from a sharp edge digging in to the rubber during the launch.
Can I afford to fix it? No... not really. The car is drivable - the damage is just cosmetic - a scar, a war wound, a badge of honor for a little car having lived, already, through 3 years of rough Michigan roads. I do have a call in to my insurance company... not because I want to file a claim with them - I just can't afford for my rates to go up... or the deductible for that matter - but because I hope they can provide some guidance for making the D.O.T. or the local municipality to cover the cost of repairs.
No, I'm not holding out much hope here either... but I figure it can't hurt.
Overall - I'm happy to be alive. I'm happy that my little Buddha-car still moves without screeching, squealing, or causing further damage to himself. I'm grateful beyond words that it didn't hit the windshield.
And I'm sad, too.
I love the rush of shifting into 5th and cruising along a wide open road with the windows down and the volume up. The only thing missing is the flip-top and the 6th gear.
Unfortunately...
Oh Sigh...
Being a car owner, being a happy car owner (even with only five speeds), has a significant down-side. Occasionally bad things happen to good cars.
I was just zooming along, on my way to work this morning, minding my own business and being pleased by the fact that the third lane on this stretch of my commute had recently been re-opened. The next thing I know, there's a piece of concrete (recently kicked up by the Black Caddy two cars in front of me) flying at my car with insane velocity, and I had no place to go and no time to get there.
Then, Oh God!, then the sickening crunch as the concrete chunk took a couple of bites out of the front fender (passenger side) of my sweet little car.
I know, and yes, I am VERY grateful that it hit the body of the car... had it been a foot higher I would likely have had a chunk of concrete through the windshield and possibly through the passenger seat.
I pulled over, hoping beyond hope that it was just a little dent. It's not. If I had a camera with me right now, I'd post the ugly gash that runs along the fender... just at about the top of the tire, so you could see, too. The guy in the black Caddy pulled over too - his car had a flat - most likely from a sharp edge digging in to the rubber during the launch.
Can I afford to fix it? No... not really. The car is drivable - the damage is just cosmetic - a scar, a war wound, a badge of honor for a little car having lived, already, through 3 years of rough Michigan roads. I do have a call in to my insurance company... not because I want to file a claim with them - I just can't afford for my rates to go up... or the deductible for that matter - but because I hope they can provide some guidance for making the D.O.T. or the local municipality to cover the cost of repairs.
No, I'm not holding out much hope here either... but I figure it can't hurt.
Overall - I'm happy to be alive. I'm happy that my little Buddha-car still moves without screeching, squealing, or causing further damage to himself. I'm grateful beyond words that it didn't hit the windshield.
And I'm sad, too.
25 May 2005
Somnabatics
My daughter - now just 2 days away from 13 months old - still sleeps with me. This is mostly, at least right now, because I prefer her to. I'm not sure if she would have objections to her own bed or not, as we have yet to attempt getting her to sleep in her own bed. Like I said, this is my doing... I like having her in bed with me and at the moment I'm not prepared to give it up.
I am getting closer to being prepared.
Last night she started out, as she does every night, with her head next to my head, sort of nestled in beside me. Five minutes later she was stretched perpendicular to me, head on the "barrier pillows" on the other side of the bed, feet (ACTIVE FEET) on me. Ten minutes after that, her active feet were dancing perilously close to my nose. When I awakened this morning, she was all but curled up with the cat... who sleeps at the foot of my bed, between my feet.
I have a mild curiosity regargding whether she does this because she sleeps with me, and I get in her sleeping way... but I know that she's ever so still at nap time - with or without me beside her. I also worry about her continuing her nighttime antics without the barrier pillows - and barrier mama - in her own bed. If she does, I sincerely anticipate a whole new round of sleepless nights, initiated by the thump of her falling out of bed.
So far, I remain (knock wood) free of bruises from the dance of dreaming... and as far as I'm concerned, that's still a good enough reason to extend the co-sleeping a little longer.
I am getting closer to being prepared.
Last night she started out, as she does every night, with her head next to my head, sort of nestled in beside me. Five minutes later she was stretched perpendicular to me, head on the "barrier pillows" on the other side of the bed, feet (ACTIVE FEET) on me. Ten minutes after that, her active feet were dancing perilously close to my nose. When I awakened this morning, she was all but curled up with the cat... who sleeps at the foot of my bed, between my feet.
I have a mild curiosity regargding whether she does this because she sleeps with me, and I get in her sleeping way... but I know that she's ever so still at nap time - with or without me beside her. I also worry about her continuing her nighttime antics without the barrier pillows - and barrier mama - in her own bed. If she does, I sincerely anticipate a whole new round of sleepless nights, initiated by the thump of her falling out of bed.
So far, I remain (knock wood) free of bruises from the dance of dreaming... and as far as I'm concerned, that's still a good enough reason to extend the co-sleeping a little longer.
GG!
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24 May 2005
Climate Change
My boss got a new job. This is a good/bad thing.
It's good for him in that he'll be able to move on to greener, more amenable pastures. He'll be happy and I'll have a contact in a new department... one in which I previously had no friends.
It has the distinct possibility of being bad in that there's really no knowing who's going to try to fill his shoes. I mean, yeah, there's the off chance that the person coming in would be really great. There's the off chance that the person coming in would already have some idea of what it is that we do, how we do it, and why. There's also the very real threat that the person coming in will suck.
This is the bad part. If the person coming in sucks, it will mean months of hand-holding and self-justification for me and my team, as we attempt to break in the new kid, show him or her the ropes, and make it as clear as possible that THIS is not a position where you're going to make the world a better, or less expensive, or more efficient place.
As for me??? I'm actively looking for work in another department. I'd like to break loose before all hell does.
It's good for him in that he'll be able to move on to greener, more amenable pastures. He'll be happy and I'll have a contact in a new department... one in which I previously had no friends.
It has the distinct possibility of being bad in that there's really no knowing who's going to try to fill his shoes. I mean, yeah, there's the off chance that the person coming in would be really great. There's the off chance that the person coming in would already have some idea of what it is that we do, how we do it, and why. There's also the very real threat that the person coming in will suck.
This is the bad part. If the person coming in sucks, it will mean months of hand-holding and self-justification for me and my team, as we attempt to break in the new kid, show him or her the ropes, and make it as clear as possible that THIS is not a position where you're going to make the world a better, or less expensive, or more efficient place.
As for me??? I'm actively looking for work in another department. I'd like to break loose before all hell does.
18 May 2005
Bad Dream
Probably because there is so much going on. Last night my first dream was horrible.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
My husband and I were visiting his mother, who lived - oddly enough - in a dreamland version of my maternal grandmother's house. There were other members of his mother's family there, visiting I seem to recall, for some family event. Maybe it was a birthday, but I'm not sure.
Somewhere in the depths of the dream, I deposited my husband and our daughter in a room on the second or maybe even the third story; a room where my mother-in-law was holding some family version of court, I think. Shortly after they went into the room - I'm not sure I was allowed to enter - I went downstairs... All the way downstairs.
It was in the basement/cellar that I was doing our laundry... But I could hear what was happening - in scattered bits and pieces - in all the other rooms of the house, courtesy of a ratty ventilation/heating system. This is eerily accurate to my Grandma's house by the way. After not too long I realised that my husband was in the basement with me - under the pretense of helping me. I was torn between being relieved for having company in the musty, dim room and being infuriated that he had left our daughter ANYWHERE in this house without one of us close at hand.
Before I got a chance to tell him this, however, I heard the instantly heart-breaking, every mother's worst moment, shrill, I'm-in-pain scream of my daughter echoing through the ducts, like a pinball making its way through the ventilation maze down to us.
I brushed past my ashen mother-in-law who was shouting to my husband "It's NOT my fault" as I made my way up the stairs to my daughter. My body and instincts, perhaps, had taken over and in this state of auto-mom, lungs and lips and teeth and tongue were independently screaming out the phrase "Where's my baby? Where's my baby?!?!?!"
She was in the kitchen, at the table, sitting on the lap of a girl - no more than 15 - who I didn't know, but who bore enough family resemblance for me to know that she belonged here. The girl held a once white, now blood-stained washcloth to my daughter's face, between her right temple and her right eye. The cloth covered her eye and I felt the bottom fall out of my stomach. Even now my daughter's dream-wailing rings in my ears. In the dream, of course, I was moving in slow motion and by the time I made it to her side, the girl removed the cloth to reveal a semi-circular gash running in the curve from the end of her eyebrow to the very corner of her eye. In the seconds that the cloth was removed, the wound welled up with blood and overflowed onto her pale cheek, her white shirt... The floor.
I got to her and held her in my arms, pressing the cloth to her face and desperately attempting to force my lungs and lips and teeth and tongue to call for my husband, before I woke up... But only just before.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When I woke up, I was a wreck. Heart thumping, sweaty, scrambling to hold my peacefully sleeping little girl close to me and never let her go.
I think this might be an allegory for what it is to be a mom. For as much as I put up the brave face, and remind my anxious family members that "babies fall over," there IS, in me, the ferocious tiger of a mother who worries, constantly and with a wild imagination, over her safety... and my own feeble attempts to ensure it.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
My husband and I were visiting his mother, who lived - oddly enough - in a dreamland version of my maternal grandmother's house. There were other members of his mother's family there, visiting I seem to recall, for some family event. Maybe it was a birthday, but I'm not sure.
Somewhere in the depths of the dream, I deposited my husband and our daughter in a room on the second or maybe even the third story; a room where my mother-in-law was holding some family version of court, I think. Shortly after they went into the room - I'm not sure I was allowed to enter - I went downstairs... All the way downstairs.
It was in the basement/cellar that I was doing our laundry... But I could hear what was happening - in scattered bits and pieces - in all the other rooms of the house, courtesy of a ratty ventilation/heating system. This is eerily accurate to my Grandma's house by the way. After not too long I realised that my husband was in the basement with me - under the pretense of helping me. I was torn between being relieved for having company in the musty, dim room and being infuriated that he had left our daughter ANYWHERE in this house without one of us close at hand.
Before I got a chance to tell him this, however, I heard the instantly heart-breaking, every mother's worst moment, shrill, I'm-in-pain scream of my daughter echoing through the ducts, like a pinball making its way through the ventilation maze down to us.
I brushed past my ashen mother-in-law who was shouting to my husband "It's NOT my fault" as I made my way up the stairs to my daughter. My body and instincts, perhaps, had taken over and in this state of auto-mom, lungs and lips and teeth and tongue were independently screaming out the phrase "Where's my baby? Where's my baby?!?!?!"
She was in the kitchen, at the table, sitting on the lap of a girl - no more than 15 - who I didn't know, but who bore enough family resemblance for me to know that she belonged here. The girl held a once white, now blood-stained washcloth to my daughter's face, between her right temple and her right eye. The cloth covered her eye and I felt the bottom fall out of my stomach. Even now my daughter's dream-wailing rings in my ears. In the dream, of course, I was moving in slow motion and by the time I made it to her side, the girl removed the cloth to reveal a semi-circular gash running in the curve from the end of her eyebrow to the very corner of her eye. In the seconds that the cloth was removed, the wound welled up with blood and overflowed onto her pale cheek, her white shirt... The floor.
I got to her and held her in my arms, pressing the cloth to her face and desperately attempting to force my lungs and lips and teeth and tongue to call for my husband, before I woke up... But only just before.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When I woke up, I was a wreck. Heart thumping, sweaty, scrambling to hold my peacefully sleeping little girl close to me and never let her go.
I think this might be an allegory for what it is to be a mom. For as much as I put up the brave face, and remind my anxious family members that "babies fall over," there IS, in me, the ferocious tiger of a mother who worries, constantly and with a wild imagination, over her safety... and my own feeble attempts to ensure it.
Much
So very much has happened...
- My cousin got a much desired job here at my work place. I feel very good because I submitted her resume for it.
- My in-laws and I had probably the most pleasant visit since the birth of my daughter on Saturday.
- My husband made it, mostly unscathed, through a very trying time at work.
- My boss got a new job and will be leaving in about 2 and 1/2 weeks.
- I had a great social evening with my friends last night - just before some of them embark on a journey through the heart of darkness.
I have so very much to do...
- Clean my room
- A month's worth of laundry
- Homework from my social event
- A weekend visit to my inlaws
- A slew of upcoming social engagements
I'd like some sleep. Life is whirlwinding around me right now... and I've got a very "Dorothy Gale" feeling about me.
I hope the Wizard is kind.
- My cousin got a much desired job here at my work place. I feel very good because I submitted her resume for it.
- My in-laws and I had probably the most pleasant visit since the birth of my daughter on Saturday.
- My husband made it, mostly unscathed, through a very trying time at work.
- My boss got a new job and will be leaving in about 2 and 1/2 weeks.
- I had a great social evening with my friends last night - just before some of them embark on a journey through the heart of darkness.
I have so very much to do...
- Clean my room
- A month's worth of laundry
- Homework from my social event
- A weekend visit to my inlaws
- A slew of upcoming social engagements
I'd like some sleep. Life is whirlwinding around me right now... and I've got a very "Dorothy Gale" feeling about me.
I hope the Wizard is kind.
09 May 2005
Any Excuse
Mother's day this year really woke me up.
I'm not sure which of our non-religious holidays are creations of Hallmark and which have National roots, and so forth. To be quite honest, I don't really care.
I like the idea of having an excuse - because no one really NEEDS a reason - to celebrate the specialness of a family member or a loved one, or to stand up and be proud of people who maybe you don't even know but who did really great and/or interesting things.
I don't buy (or even make anymore, alas) many cards, and I'm not overly fussed, for myself, over the whole gift thing. But I most emphatically embrace the idea of showing a little extra regard, or sharing some bonus-pampering, or even just giving way to the whims of the person whose honor the day respects.
I think it would be cool if we had more of those days... probably we do, and I've just sort of blown them off, not paying attention. Even if we do - or don't - I think I might start designating some... just to take the time.
I'm going to work on my calendar...
I'm not sure which of our non-religious holidays are creations of Hallmark and which have National roots, and so forth. To be quite honest, I don't really care.
I like the idea of having an excuse - because no one really NEEDS a reason - to celebrate the specialness of a family member or a loved one, or to stand up and be proud of people who maybe you don't even know but who did really great and/or interesting things.
I don't buy (or even make anymore, alas) many cards, and I'm not overly fussed, for myself, over the whole gift thing. But I most emphatically embrace the idea of showing a little extra regard, or sharing some bonus-pampering, or even just giving way to the whims of the person whose honor the day respects.
I think it would be cool if we had more of those days... probably we do, and I've just sort of blown them off, not paying attention. Even if we do - or don't - I think I might start designating some... just to take the time.
I'm going to work on my calendar...
06 May 2005
Ugly American
A recent post on PinkDot touched a nerve.
I have a one year old daughter, and have been thinking lately about her "heritage."
Both her father and I are "muddy-blooded" Americans. We're both made up of smatterings of Native American (which until recently I thought was just fine with it's old moniker of American Indian - a lot I know!), English, and I think German. He has more on his side - for mine there's also Dutch, French, Irish, Scottish, Polish, and Czech. Add to that that my husband's family's religious affiliations are primarily Protestant in nature and mine are Catholic and (whether or not my paternal grandmother will openly admit it), most likely, Jewish.
In short - we're just about as Euro-American as it gets... especially my daughter.
Does this bother me?
On one hand, No. I don't think there's anything wrong with not having a strong affiliation to a distant culture. I think it's a fine thing to be an American - replete with our bold opinions and the courage to speak them, our high levels of self esteem, and our strong desires to be renovators of all the brilliant ideas that founded not only our country but those of our ancestors.
On the other hand, I have first hand experience of Ugly Americans - rife with ignorance and the pride to bandy it about, our arrogance, and our ridiculous notion that the world needs another round of crusades.
I have been a determined advocate for the first description of Americans. When I travel and at home I make every effort to embrace those qualities that speak to our Culture (yes, with the "capital" C), and our grace, our goodness, and our strength. I am a committed iconoclast - perhaps enough to say that it is my personal crusade - of the Ugly American. While I know that singlehandedly I cannot destroy this image, I also firmly believe that the light of my single candle - and that of my daughter as she grows to believe that American can mean beautiful - is enough to dispel at least a little darkness.
So - she will grow up American - muddy blooded and all - and will know of the greatness of this country and its peoples... and she will know of the greatness of her people - those whose blood is all mixed up in her. She will, most certainly, be fore-armed with enough knowledge of what is ugly to counter it (and propogate its antidote) in her own life... because she will know - even more proudly - what beauty courses through the very soul of this country and herself.
I have a one year old daughter, and have been thinking lately about her "heritage."
Both her father and I are "muddy-blooded" Americans. We're both made up of smatterings of Native American (which until recently I thought was just fine with it's old moniker of American Indian - a lot I know!), English, and I think German. He has more on his side - for mine there's also Dutch, French, Irish, Scottish, Polish, and Czech. Add to that that my husband's family's religious affiliations are primarily Protestant in nature and mine are Catholic and (whether or not my paternal grandmother will openly admit it), most likely, Jewish.
In short - we're just about as Euro-American as it gets... especially my daughter.
Does this bother me?
On one hand, No. I don't think there's anything wrong with not having a strong affiliation to a distant culture. I think it's a fine thing to be an American - replete with our bold opinions and the courage to speak them, our high levels of self esteem, and our strong desires to be renovators of all the brilliant ideas that founded not only our country but those of our ancestors.
On the other hand, I have first hand experience of Ugly Americans - rife with ignorance and the pride to bandy it about, our arrogance, and our ridiculous notion that the world needs another round of crusades.
I have been a determined advocate for the first description of Americans. When I travel and at home I make every effort to embrace those qualities that speak to our Culture (yes, with the "capital" C), and our grace, our goodness, and our strength. I am a committed iconoclast - perhaps enough to say that it is my personal crusade - of the Ugly American. While I know that singlehandedly I cannot destroy this image, I also firmly believe that the light of my single candle - and that of my daughter as she grows to believe that American can mean beautiful - is enough to dispel at least a little darkness.
So - she will grow up American - muddy blooded and all - and will know of the greatness of this country and its peoples... and she will know of the greatness of her people - those whose blood is all mixed up in her. She will, most certainly, be fore-armed with enough knowledge of what is ugly to counter it (and propogate its antidote) in her own life... because she will know - even more proudly - what beauty courses through the very soul of this country and herself.
05 May 2005
Pet Peeve
Ok - I'll admit it, I am persnickety about things at work.
I like to have a little warning before something ugly hits my desk.
I like to be able to schedule time to talk over complex issues.
I like it when everyone arrives to a meeting prepared for the meeting.
AND
I hate it when I show up at someone's desk - on time - and they're working
on a project that has to be put away before my time can begin. That's why,
when I'm going to have someone come to my desk, to work on a project
together, I like to be sure that I have everything put away and only have
whatever it is we're going to be working on set up on my computer.
That's why this next one is so infuriating.
Right now (actually 10 minutes ago) I am supposed to be working on getting
some stuff set up on my system. This means that I am not working on
anything else (with the exception of this post, I guess) and more or less
just sitting here, waiting for the person to arrive. It's not that I don't
have a lot to do, nor that I don't have a lot I could be doing right now,
but in the name of being considerate, I have put all of that away - more
than 10 minutes ago, now - so that when she arrived we could get right to
work, saving both of us valuable/precious time to work on all those other
projects out there waiting for us.
Maybe I should excuse myself to the ladies room... she's guaranteed to
arrive in my absence, no?
03 May 2005
BreastFeeding Breakdown
Original plan:
Stop nursing, stop pumping, stop all methods of breastfeeding at 1 year.
Results:
Agonies of pain, a grumpy / sad / otherwise moody me, a baby not overly fussed but missing the mommy time.
Actions:
Returned (last night) to "don't offer, don't deny" nursing routine - ONLY when I am at home (i.e. no pumping).
Current Results:
Pain relief, mood improvement, and a (to me) distinctly happier baby
Future Plan:
Continue on this route until
a) feedings drop off naturally (i.e. she gets too busy to take the time to crawl up on my lap to have some milk)
b) I feel ready to break the bond and suffer the "fullness" and cut her off again - though more slowly this time
c) she starts school (ha ha ha)
Obviously I feel better about it, I'm actually able to embrace a sense of humor instead of moping off somewhere to have a cry because I could actually think something so cruel about it.
Stop nursing, stop pumping, stop all methods of breastfeeding at 1 year.
Results:
Agonies of pain, a grumpy / sad / otherwise moody me, a baby not overly fussed but missing the mommy time.
Actions:
Returned (last night) to "don't offer, don't deny" nursing routine - ONLY when I am at home (i.e. no pumping).
Current Results:
Pain relief, mood improvement, and a (to me) distinctly happier baby
Future Plan:
Continue on this route until
a) feedings drop off naturally (i.e. she gets too busy to take the time to crawl up on my lap to have some milk)
b) I feel ready to break the bond and suffer the "fullness" and cut her off again - though more slowly this time
c) she starts school (ha ha ha)
Obviously I feel better about it, I'm actually able to embrace a sense of humor instead of moping off somewhere to have a cry because I could actually think something so cruel about it.
Paris to Pleh...
I believe I learned my lesson with The Sailor... and am NOT going to continue reading this book.
No offense to any of my friends (PinkDot) who have a mad passion for Paris, or even for France, but I cannot get into this book and have no desire to torture myself with reading another collection of words more or less meaningless to me. I will have to lend it to a friend... so at least it gets read... maybe.
In other news:
We celebrated my daughter's first birthday over the past few weeks. Two weeks ago tuesday with my gamey friends. Last Wednesday with my co-workers and my in-laws. Sunday with one of her four Godparents. The funniest bit about Sunday is that it was meant to be small, just not as small as it ended up being.
Due to a death in the family (G.r.h.s.) my in-laws were unable to attend. Due to the overwhelming overwhelmingness of classes, two of her Godparents M.I.A., and due to current nasty weather and a bad roof the last of her Godparents was absent. It was odd... but not entirely unpleasant. What I had thought would be a very stressy day for me ended up being way more relaxed than any other "family" event I have ever planned, and I am strongly considering changing all social events to a "one-at-a-time" program. Sure, it might take me all year to get things out of the way, but what an ideal to live relaxed!
Friday and Saturday were spent among the Amish of Shipshewana, IN. We buy much of our meat there, and some other sundries. It's a good sort of semi-mini-vacation (in spite of the drive) and the bacon is really good. We got some lamb this time too - a personal favorite...
For the rest of this week, well - things are a little out of whack. My husband and daughter were meant to visit my mother-in-law for her birthday on Thursday, but because of the funerals, it doesn't seem that's going to happen. My in-laws will actually be in Tennessee on Thursday, which is a real shame... Birthdays should exempt from painful memories, and I feel for her that not only her birthday, but Mother's Day, as well, is going to be tainted with loss this year.
They came by for a visit last night, so at least they got to spend some time together, and we (meaning at least my husband and I) will be attending the local funeral tomorrow... still haven't discussed whether or not we'll bring our little girl. But with them travelling to TN overnight Wednesday, I'm not sure what their plans for the weekend will be. I hope that she can find some solace in the relatives she has down there, and rest some... but at the same time, I want her to be able to participate in/enjoy (somehow) Mother's day.
Ah - things will unfold.
For now, I'm swamped with work (finding my own solace in hot tea and blathering here) and trying to be supportive for my husband... and - as always - loving my little girl.
No offense to any of my friends (PinkDot) who have a mad passion for Paris, or even for France, but I cannot get into this book and have no desire to torture myself with reading another collection of words more or less meaningless to me. I will have to lend it to a friend... so at least it gets read... maybe.
In other news:
We celebrated my daughter's first birthday over the past few weeks. Two weeks ago tuesday with my gamey friends. Last Wednesday with my co-workers and my in-laws. Sunday with one of her four Godparents. The funniest bit about Sunday is that it was meant to be small, just not as small as it ended up being.
Due to a death in the family (G.r.h.s.) my in-laws were unable to attend. Due to the overwhelming overwhelmingness of classes, two of her Godparents M.I.A., and due to current nasty weather and a bad roof the last of her Godparents was absent. It was odd... but not entirely unpleasant. What I had thought would be a very stressy day for me ended up being way more relaxed than any other "family" event I have ever planned, and I am strongly considering changing all social events to a "one-at-a-time" program. Sure, it might take me all year to get things out of the way, but what an ideal to live relaxed!
Friday and Saturday were spent among the Amish of Shipshewana, IN. We buy much of our meat there, and some other sundries. It's a good sort of semi-mini-vacation (in spite of the drive) and the bacon is really good. We got some lamb this time too - a personal favorite...
For the rest of this week, well - things are a little out of whack. My husband and daughter were meant to visit my mother-in-law for her birthday on Thursday, but because of the funerals, it doesn't seem that's going to happen. My in-laws will actually be in Tennessee on Thursday, which is a real shame... Birthdays should exempt from painful memories, and I feel for her that not only her birthday, but Mother's Day, as well, is going to be tainted with loss this year.
They came by for a visit last night, so at least they got to spend some time together, and we (meaning at least my husband and I) will be attending the local funeral tomorrow... still haven't discussed whether or not we'll bring our little girl. But with them travelling to TN overnight Wednesday, I'm not sure what their plans for the weekend will be. I hope that she can find some solace in the relatives she has down there, and rest some... but at the same time, I want her to be able to participate in/enjoy (somehow) Mother's day.
Ah - things will unfold.
For now, I'm swamped with work (finding my own solace in hot tea and blathering here) and trying to be supportive for my husband... and - as always - loving my little girl.
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