My blisters have blisters and my feet have left me to go on vacation in a place where walking, running or anything involving movement of any sort is strictly forbidden.
I for one don't blame them. Another three miles on the treadmill of terror this evening, and my dogs were done in, done for, and downright mad at the rest of me. And that was before I upped the speed and decided jogging was the true ticket for getting out of there with the most amount of miles and the least amount of time.
Personally, I'm beginning to think I've gone a little nutso on this newfound exercise regimen of mine. And honestly, if it weren’t for the momentum and my fear of losing it, I'd probably take a day off here and there to catch my breath, relax my feet, and give my body time to adjust to... Well, let's be honest with each other, all this movement.
One cannot go from being an avid, though I might add, very well adjusted couch potato to the bionic woman overnight. Although come to think of it, I wouldn't mind the cool sound effects. Talk about a conversation starter.
Anyhoo, as I use this opportunity to seg-way into the second portion of tonight's serving, I came to the stark realization upon returning home that my poor pup had finished off her puppy chow and my secret stash had already not so secretly been plundered.
Quite frankly, I was ready to say, "Nuh uh, no way, no how and no one is going to make me. Not when I am this close to my couch!" And then Lucy looked at me.
One cock of the head, one floppy bat eared smile and my resolve to not be resolved busted as if the Hoover Dam had sprung a leak. I did however make one concession to my outing. And though I'm afraid to admit it, and I readily admit to breaking more than one cardinal rule of what not to wear, there was no way, I was slipping my double boiled blistered feet back into a pair of sneakers.
At least not when my (hand me down from Brenda, but never worn) pink dearfoam slippers were readily available. And seriously, so what about the white cotton ball tassels?
KC and her BFF "R" from next door agreed with me - or at least humored me, I really haven't decided which, that with my jeans hiding the more slipper looking portion of my slipper, I almost looked as if I were sporting a pair of UGGS.
(UGGS? I know I've said this before, but seriously, the only time I've ever used the word ugg is when something is absolutely awful... And yet, these things are the Rolls Royce of boots. Or comparable. Or something. Feel free to have your own opinion about this rather than rely on mine which I know for a fact is biased against just about everything.)
And so off I went. In public. With two kids. A pink pooch. And an even pinker pair of slippers.
But pretty in pink? Probably not.
And this is where I apologize. For as much as I would love to go on, and on, and on, and natter on even more after that, I have no more energy to tell this tale. My couch with all it's glorious comfort is awaiting my arrival, and as much as I hate to say this, let alone type it, I've an early morning ahead of me thanks to yet another round of can't say no to Margeurite at church.
Let's just say the good lord gave me two hands. And those two hands will be flipping pancakes at seven o'clock tomorrow morning.
The Positive Side of Paranoia
A lot can happen in just a few days. You can get a flat tire. (Again.) Your dog can accidentally eat chocolate. And you can think that even though rumor is bad things come in threes, maybe, just maybe, it will stop at two, call itself even and let you get a chance to catch your breath without letting slip that proverbial anvil in the sky just waiting to fall on your head.
Still I'm in the habit of looking up, and with my now never without them pair of sneakers close at hand, I'm ready to run. But only if it's honestly required of me.
And I do have to say, not that any of you out in wherever you are land will find this good reading or anything, but I did another three miles today on the treadmill.
I am a gym goddess!
Or at least on my way to becoming a gym rat. (Not to worry, I didn't see this one coming from a mile away either!)
Not that any of this is quite the point I was trying to make in the long way round of writing things. My point was something along the lines of pointing out that even though shit happens, sometimes you step in it and end up none the worse for wear.
Let me explain...
When you replace your tires and you still get a flat, somebody somewhere missed something big. And so because you know what you know, which is that you're honestly standing in the parking lot of your job staring at a tire that shouldn't be completely flat but oh so totally is, and it just happens to be the same tire you've been having problems with for the past two months, chances are the tire you thought was taken care of, wasn't...
So you make a call. And you talk to the assistant manager and you explain your situation, being very kind and courteous with a backbone made of steel. You present them with your problem, you let them know your expectations, and then you say, "Sure. Do what you've got to do and call me back at this number and let me know what you find out."
Hanging up the phone you don't hold out much for hope. You know you're telling the truth. You know you've got the story right, but they're the ones thinking you're trying to get away with something for nothing and a new flat tire you want fixed for free.
But you wait, not really holding your breath but holding it all the same, preparing yourself for the fight in case they insist you've got it wrong when they call you back. And then they say the most magical thing you've ever heard. Insofar as tires are concerned that is...
"Mam," he says, though you're thinking he'd be better off using Miss, "You're absolutely right. I checked the tape and they didn't touch that tire at all. If you can get your car down here, we'll take care of it for you."
Hallelujah! I think I just heard the word free tire!
Free because as the tape would show, and who knew they taped their garage employees fixing cars, it turns out the tire they were specifically given instructions to remove and replace was never fixed at all. Nope. Instead they took two perfectly good tires and replaced them with two completely new tires, and left the problematic tire exactly where it had been prior to bringing it in.
Needless to say, with all that egg on their face, the only thing they could do was make it right. And as far as I'm concerned, three for the price of two is good in my book any day.
As for Lucy Lu eating chocolate, that more or less, but leaning to the far right of more, was KC' slip up, all I will say in the very little defense I will allot her was she made a mistake that could have been much more costly than a vet bill. Fortunately I didn't have to have one of those either. But it was a bit nerve wracking to think that there was a chance my little pup could have been in jeopardy. I've gotten somewhat attached and wouldn't be able to bear coming home to a house without her.
KC, now sufficiently grounded until she comes of age, has hopefully taken this little life lesson to heart. Pet ownership is about being responsible for an animal who cannot be responsible for itself. And though she never likes to sit too long through what she has described as my endless lectures, it's a lesson she needs to learn this time around to prevent another accident in the future.
Lucy however is resting comfortably and requests that she will be accepting any and all squeaky toys during her time of convalescence.
Proof positive that I have a very smart dog.
Still I'm in the habit of looking up, and with my now never without them pair of sneakers close at hand, I'm ready to run. But only if it's honestly required of me.
And I do have to say, not that any of you out in wherever you are land will find this good reading or anything, but I did another three miles today on the treadmill.
I am a gym goddess!
Or at least on my way to becoming a gym rat. (Not to worry, I didn't see this one coming from a mile away either!)
Not that any of this is quite the point I was trying to make in the long way round of writing things. My point was something along the lines of pointing out that even though shit happens, sometimes you step in it and end up none the worse for wear.
Let me explain...
When you replace your tires and you still get a flat, somebody somewhere missed something big. And so because you know what you know, which is that you're honestly standing in the parking lot of your job staring at a tire that shouldn't be completely flat but oh so totally is, and it just happens to be the same tire you've been having problems with for the past two months, chances are the tire you thought was taken care of, wasn't...
So you make a call. And you talk to the assistant manager and you explain your situation, being very kind and courteous with a backbone made of steel. You present them with your problem, you let them know your expectations, and then you say, "Sure. Do what you've got to do and call me back at this number and let me know what you find out."
Hanging up the phone you don't hold out much for hope. You know you're telling the truth. You know you've got the story right, but they're the ones thinking you're trying to get away with something for nothing and a new flat tire you want fixed for free.
But you wait, not really holding your breath but holding it all the same, preparing yourself for the fight in case they insist you've got it wrong when they call you back. And then they say the most magical thing you've ever heard. Insofar as tires are concerned that is...
"Mam," he says, though you're thinking he'd be better off using Miss, "You're absolutely right. I checked the tape and they didn't touch that tire at all. If you can get your car down here, we'll take care of it for you."
Hallelujah! I think I just heard the word free tire!
Free because as the tape would show, and who knew they taped their garage employees fixing cars, it turns out the tire they were specifically given instructions to remove and replace was never fixed at all. Nope. Instead they took two perfectly good tires and replaced them with two completely new tires, and left the problematic tire exactly where it had been prior to bringing it in.
Needless to say, with all that egg on their face, the only thing they could do was make it right. And as far as I'm concerned, three for the price of two is good in my book any day.
As for Lucy Lu eating chocolate, that more or less, but leaning to the far right of more, was KC' slip up, all I will say in the very little defense I will allot her was she made a mistake that could have been much more costly than a vet bill. Fortunately I didn't have to have one of those either. But it was a bit nerve wracking to think that there was a chance my little pup could have been in jeopardy. I've gotten somewhat attached and wouldn't be able to bear coming home to a house without her.
KC, now sufficiently grounded until she comes of age, has hopefully taken this little life lesson to heart. Pet ownership is about being responsible for an animal who cannot be responsible for itself. And though she never likes to sit too long through what she has described as my endless lectures, it's a lesson she needs to learn this time around to prevent another accident in the future.
Lucy however is resting comfortably and requests that she will be accepting any and all squeaky toys during her time of convalescence.
Proof positive that I have a very smart dog.
Angry Voices From Below
I wonder how much money, or better yet, how much stomping it would take to get the asshole and his girlfriend downstairs to shut the hell up. Arguing as much and as often as they do, it's my honest opinion that whatever they're staying together for, it certainly can't be for the kind of love you just can't leave behind. Then again, sick and twisted relationships very seldom turn out to be anything that resembles love.
Still it bothers me to have to listen to all of this.
I don't like yelling. And I've never been a big fan of violent words being bantered about like a birdie in badminton. It makes me uncomfortable. Sets me on edge. And reminds me of a time two years ago when I was very much like this sad woman downstairs.
I think back to all the yelling that I had to listen to and wonder now what the hell made me think I had to listen to any of it at all...
It makes no sense. If someone doesn't respect you and treat you right, it should be so much easier to understand you're under no obligation to stay.
Still it bothers me to have to listen to all of this.
I don't like yelling. And I've never been a big fan of violent words being bantered about like a birdie in badminton. It makes me uncomfortable. Sets me on edge. And reminds me of a time two years ago when I was very much like this sad woman downstairs.
I think back to all the yelling that I had to listen to and wonder now what the hell made me think I had to listen to any of it at all...
It makes no sense. If someone doesn't respect you and treat you right, it should be so much easier to understand you're under no obligation to stay.
Feeling the Burn
Did I say I was going to hurt tomorrow?
Or did I say I feel like an eighty year old grandmother who is barely mobile?
If I did in fact say anything, I should promptly be ignored and then reminded that I have absolutely no business thinking I'm Wonder Woman. Unless Wonder Woman needs a dye job, a new job, a man in her life who isn't a complete and total schmuck, a child who listens on a daily basis, and an ass that isn't currently the size of Texas.
That being said, I actually have plans for tonight. (Will wonders never cease?) And must actually motivate myself to move... Or at least crawl my way into the shower.
Or did I say I feel like an eighty year old grandmother who is barely mobile?
If I did in fact say anything, I should promptly be ignored and then reminded that I have absolutely no business thinking I'm Wonder Woman. Unless Wonder Woman needs a dye job, a new job, a man in her life who isn't a complete and total schmuck, a child who listens on a daily basis, and an ass that isn't currently the size of Texas.
That being said, I actually have plans for tonight. (Will wonders never cease?) And must actually motivate myself to move... Or at least crawl my way into the shower.
This Is Going To Hurt... Tomorrow
Forget the theme song, I need a shrink!
And I'm still trying to figure out what bit of nonsense took over my brain this morning, when I got it into my head that after three, yes, I'm talking three whole hey look at me trips to the gym, I thought I was ready to run.
And I mean really run. As in the whole process of putting one foot in front of the other much faster than I normally do, and would honestly only do if I thought someone was chasing after me in an extremely menacing manner. That kind of "What the hell is my heart rate?" run.
No kidding! I've gone completely extreme!
And most likely insane, though I'd like to hold off just a wee bit longer before signing up for that kind of lifetime commitment.
Seriously however this gym thing is good business. I was up at the crack of dawn, bitching about it not even five minutes later, in the shower, at the gym, off to the Saturday morning meeting place, to the grocery store, then for coffee, a quick stop at the library to replenish some much needed reading supplies, and then home, home, home again.
Now with a roast in the oven, a kitchen cleaned, and my morning chores all but almost completed, I'm ready to kick back, play with the pup, and pass out from sheer exhaustion...
And I'm still trying to figure out what bit of nonsense took over my brain this morning, when I got it into my head that after three, yes, I'm talking three whole hey look at me trips to the gym, I thought I was ready to run.
And I mean really run. As in the whole process of putting one foot in front of the other much faster than I normally do, and would honestly only do if I thought someone was chasing after me in an extremely menacing manner. That kind of "What the hell is my heart rate?" run.
No kidding! I've gone completely extreme!And most likely insane, though I'd like to hold off just a wee bit longer before signing up for that kind of lifetime commitment.
Seriously however this gym thing is good business. I was up at the crack of dawn, bitching about it not even five minutes later, in the shower, at the gym, off to the Saturday morning meeting place, to the grocery store, then for coffee, a quick stop at the library to replenish some much needed reading supplies, and then home, home, home again.
Now with a roast in the oven, a kitchen cleaned, and my morning chores all but almost completed, I'm ready to kick back, play with the pup, and pass out from sheer exhaustion...
Every Girl Needs A Theme Song
Tori makes excellent listening music when you're pounding the pavement on a treadmill. I remember closing my eyes last night, focusing on my goal of just getting done, and letting the music take me to the end of my miles.
And I thought to myself that certain songs become far more than just music and lyrics, they become mantras... Perhaps then, this one is mine.
And I thought to myself that certain songs become far more than just music and lyrics, they become mantras... Perhaps then, this one is mine.
Tori Amos, American Doll Posse, Beauty of Speed (released May 1, 2007 )I'm coming back for more.
Out of my black and white world.
Past a
shooting star,
The beauty of speed.
See the colors changing. See the
colors changing. See the
colors changing.
Brilliance For Breakfast
I am a bad little blogger. And this week alone should be proving that without a shadow of a doubt.
All I can say for myself is that every once in a lunar eclipse while, I come down with the plenty to write about but the nothing much to say syndrome known as writer's block. Or to put it in a much broader sense, the inability to focus while sitting in front of a computer. Though truly, one doesn't actually sit so much in front of a computer as much as it is the computer itself that sits in front of them...
I am absolutely profound! So profound in fact, I'm going to put it right out there and say I practically border on brilliance... (Regardless of odd comma placements, that is. But hey, we can't all be gifted with the ability to punctuate correctly all the time.)
Despite my self-imposed exile, I have had a busload of thoughts this week. Thoughts like...
"What the hell am I doing on this treadmill?" (While trying to breathe normally.)
"How long do I have to go on pretending that I can actually keep up at this speed and it doesn't hurt?" (While trying not to go sailing off the end a la Okay Go style.)
"Is that guy with the kid sitting in the same row as us for this movie wearing a wedding band?" (While trying not to appear as if I am totally scoping him out, while totally scoping him out.)
"How many people open their snacks as soon as the lights dim and finish them prior to the previews being over?" (While contemplating the noise of plastic being opened, crunched and crinkled.)
"Does anyone else hate the smell of popcorn as much as I do?" (While wishing all the people with popcorn would see another movie.)
"What is that stain on my daughter's new jeans? It looks like paint! Is that paint?" (While raising my eyebrows and wondering who the hell let her near paint in her new clothes.)
"But why is it there?" (While still wondering who the hell let her near paint in her new clothes.)
"If someone asks me if I'm feeling better today, especially if that someone is my boss, should I take my bottle of MIDOL with me to work and blame it on female problems?" (While thinking to myself that I'm not going to fake being ill today just to make yesterday look good.)
All I can say for myself is that every once in a lunar eclipse while, I come down with the plenty to write about but the nothing much to say syndrome known as writer's block. Or to put it in a much broader sense, the inability to focus while sitting in front of a computer. Though truly, one doesn't actually sit so much in front of a computer as much as it is the computer itself that sits in front of them...
I am absolutely profound! So profound in fact, I'm going to put it right out there and say I practically border on brilliance... (Regardless of odd comma placements, that is. But hey, we can't all be gifted with the ability to punctuate correctly all the time.)
Despite my self-imposed exile, I have had a busload of thoughts this week. Thoughts like...
"What the hell am I doing on this treadmill?" (While trying to breathe normally.)
"How long do I have to go on pretending that I can actually keep up at this speed and it doesn't hurt?" (While trying not to go sailing off the end a la Okay Go style.)
"Is that guy with the kid sitting in the same row as us for this movie wearing a wedding band?" (While trying not to appear as if I am totally scoping him out, while totally scoping him out.)
"How many people open their snacks as soon as the lights dim and finish them prior to the previews being over?" (While contemplating the noise of plastic being opened, crunched and crinkled.)
"Does anyone else hate the smell of popcorn as much as I do?" (While wishing all the people with popcorn would see another movie.)
"What is that stain on my daughter's new jeans? It looks like paint! Is that paint?" (While raising my eyebrows and wondering who the hell let her near paint in her new clothes.)
"But why is it there?" (While still wondering who the hell let her near paint in her new clothes.)
"If someone asks me if I'm feeling better today, especially if that someone is my boss, should I take my bottle of MIDOL with me to work and blame it on female problems?" (While thinking to myself that I'm not going to fake being ill today just to make yesterday look good.)
Mental Health & The Movies
I'm playing hookey today and I don't feel the least little bit bad about it... In fact, KC and I are about to venture out for a Mom and daughter day...
First stop, the movies... Second stop, maybe lunch... Third stop, wherever else we want to go...
Sometimes the greater good requires having an unexpectedly good time.
First stop, the movies... Second stop, maybe lunch... Third stop, wherever else we want to go...
Sometimes the greater good requires having an unexpectedly good time.
One Foot In the Ocean
"This is my family. I found it, all on my own. Is little, and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good."Stitch
The thought of going back to school scares the hell out of me. One moment I think I'm ready to take that leap, and the next I'm pulling myself back before I have a chance to move forward.
The thing is, nothing is going to change for me unless I make the decision that there's some changing that needs to be done. And I know I'm not going to get anywhere if I just continue to play it safe, holding to the lines of my margins as I have for the past nine years.
You have to take big risks to answer the call of opportunity. You have to learn how to swim in the ocean or learn how to be content swimming in your stagnant pond. And you may just have to sacrifice a lot in the beginning to reap the rewards at the end.
But you do have to decide what it is you want to do, are willing to do, and are capable of doing, and doing well...
Me. I've got more than one dream. But the dream I need to work on right now is the one that can provide...
Misc Filler
Easily distracted.
Or maybe just too damn late to give this whole finding something to write about thing a really good try.
That being said, this pic was too cute not to post, and since I haven't posted any pics in a while...
And Happy Birthday to my Dad. We love you this big one much...
Actors Wanted: Apply Within
Once again, I've managed to volunteer myself, and this time not quite by accident, though I'm currently wishing that were the case.
My opinion is this. If you're not able to take control of a project, it's best to leave the planning details to someone else. Not that I'm saying you shouldn't participate and lend a hand, but really you can't honestly be the director of a play if no one shows up for rehearsals...
Meanwhile back at the non-rehearsal rehearsal that wasn't even close to being the highlight of my Friday night, I concentrated less on saying my lines and more on keeping my mouth shut. And considering how blessed I am in the opinion department, it should be noted that this was a feat of mythical proportions...
Still with things looking pretty bleak in the can we really pull this thing off with the less than a month time line we're working with, I wonder if it's too late to come down with laryngitis.
My opinion is this. If you're not able to take control of a project, it's best to leave the planning details to someone else. Not that I'm saying you shouldn't participate and lend a hand, but really you can't honestly be the director of a play if no one shows up for rehearsals...
Meanwhile back at the non-rehearsal rehearsal that wasn't even close to being the highlight of my Friday night, I concentrated less on saying my lines and more on keeping my mouth shut. And considering how blessed I am in the opinion department, it should be noted that this was a feat of mythical proportions...
Still with things looking pretty bleak in the can we really pull this thing off with the less than a month time line we're working with, I wonder if it's too late to come down with laryngitis.
Tired of Tires
I had another almost flat tire earlier tonight and I've finally decided to cave on waiting any longer to get it looked at. Not that I haven't gotten handy about making my way to various gas stations in my area to take advantage of seventy-five cents worth of three minutes of air, but there's only so much worrying a girl can do when driving around.
Besides that, the internal voice that is my mother has been chastising me for weeks to get this done. No offense meant to my Mom of course, as I love her much more than broccoli, lima beans, and brussel sprouts all put together, but honestly... Enough already.
I hear you!
Okay?
Oh and just for the record, Happy that holiday in February...
Besides that, the internal voice that is my mother has been chastising me for weeks to get this done. No offense meant to my Mom of course, as I love her much more than broccoli, lima beans, and brussel sprouts all put together, but honestly... Enough already.
I hear you!
Okay?
Oh and just for the record, Happy that holiday in February...
Absorption
Nothing became real for her until she had had time to live it over again. An actual occurrence was nothing but the blankness of a shock, then the knowledge that something had happened; afterwards one could creep back and look into one's mind and find new things in it, clear and solid. It was like waiting outside the hen-house until the hen came off the nest and then going in to look for the egg.
Elizabeth Bowen, "Coming Home," Early Stories (1951)
Headaches and Heartaches
Trying to stay positive when you're filled with negative emotions is downright hard to do.
It knocks the wind right out of your sails. It raises you up to the level of your expectations and then it drops you. Hard.
It's being on the top of your game. Good at what you do. Proud of everything you've accomplished. Expecting praise. (At least.) Expecting a good outcome.
It's a conversation from last year. If you want to be the best, you've got to work for it. Show us you want it. Prove yourself. We need more, if you want more.
Words that motivate you to rise to the next tier. To take on more challenges. To extend yourself to the farthest that you can go. To reach for a silver cup. To go for that gold.
It's giving them what they've asked for. What they said they needed to break you through that glass ceiling you've been trying to break through for years.
And it's realizing that all of it. Every word was just an empty blanket. A filler in of time. False motivation. Inaccurate information.
Maybe I'm the fool.
A fool raised with the belief that hard work, commitment and honesty are the backbone of advancement and achievement.
I pushed myself so damn hard last year. To be one of the very best. To prove that I was worth more to the bottom line.
But the bottom line is this. You can take number one. And you can still be handed a pile of shit.
Congratulated and disappointed all at once. Staggering with the wonder of how it all turned out to be not worth the effort that you gave. The hours of overtime. The extra assignments you gave yourself. The job you did to the best level of your ability times two.
I'm disappointed.
Disappointment however has nothing on the disillusionment I'm feeling. The taken for a ride and left off in the middle of nowhere field I've found myself standing in.
And I have to ask myself this question, in a time and place where job security and the need to bring home a paycheck to support my family is of a higher value than my personal satisfaction with my employer.
To stay is to accept at face value the dishonesty of empty words. To allow bad behavior to go unchecked. To go against the moral fiber of everything I was brought up to believe, and the value system I've been putting into place for my daughter ever since she was born.
To leave however is fraught with uncertainty in a time, in an area, in an economy that cannot promise to do any better than what I've got now.
And for a moment. This moment. This three o'clock in the I can't sleep morning moment that is my life, there are absolutely no answers.
Just questions.
It knocks the wind right out of your sails. It raises you up to the level of your expectations and then it drops you. Hard.
It's being on the top of your game. Good at what you do. Proud of everything you've accomplished. Expecting praise. (At least.) Expecting a good outcome.
It's a conversation from last year. If you want to be the best, you've got to work for it. Show us you want it. Prove yourself. We need more, if you want more.
Words that motivate you to rise to the next tier. To take on more challenges. To extend yourself to the farthest that you can go. To reach for a silver cup. To go for that gold.
It's giving them what they've asked for. What they said they needed to break you through that glass ceiling you've been trying to break through for years.
And it's realizing that all of it. Every word was just an empty blanket. A filler in of time. False motivation. Inaccurate information.
Maybe I'm the fool.
A fool raised with the belief that hard work, commitment and honesty are the backbone of advancement and achievement.
I pushed myself so damn hard last year. To be one of the very best. To prove that I was worth more to the bottom line.
But the bottom line is this. You can take number one. And you can still be handed a pile of shit.
Congratulated and disappointed all at once. Staggering with the wonder of how it all turned out to be not worth the effort that you gave. The hours of overtime. The extra assignments you gave yourself. The job you did to the best level of your ability times two.
I'm disappointed.
Disappointment however has nothing on the disillusionment I'm feeling. The taken for a ride and left off in the middle of nowhere field I've found myself standing in.
And I have to ask myself this question, in a time and place where job security and the need to bring home a paycheck to support my family is of a higher value than my personal satisfaction with my employer.
To stay is to accept at face value the dishonesty of empty words. To allow bad behavior to go unchecked. To go against the moral fiber of everything I was brought up to believe, and the value system I've been putting into place for my daughter ever since she was born.
To leave however is fraught with uncertainty in a time, in an area, in an economy that cannot promise to do any better than what I've got now.
And for a moment. This moment. This three o'clock in the I can't sleep morning moment that is my life, there are absolutely no answers.
Just questions.
Once Bitten, All Kinds of Time Shy
Pupzilla is starting to drive me crazy.
She bites everything. Anything. And mostly things that are attached to me like toes, fingers, and once when I wasn't paying close enough attention, my nose.
I'm beginning to think that despite the careful consideration KC and I put towards choosing her name, our choice, as it seems we have a knack for choosing, turned out to be the wrong one.
For had we known Lucy was actually the shortened version of Lucifer, we just might have rethought our entire position on owning a dog.
Because honestly. Cuteness only gets you so far.
On that note, I have my big review tomorrow (joy) and need to get myself to bed to ensure I'll be fully functioning at an hour early enough to allow me to make it to work on time. After all, it just wouldn't be good to be tardy tomorrow of all days...
Oh... And for anyone who happens to run into my Mother before, oh let's say midnight, wish her a happy birthday!
Tell her I told you so...
She bites everything. Anything. And mostly things that are attached to me like toes, fingers, and once when I wasn't paying close enough attention, my nose.
I'm beginning to think that despite the careful consideration KC and I put towards choosing her name, our choice, as it seems we have a knack for choosing, turned out to be the wrong one.
For had we known Lucy was actually the shortened version of Lucifer, we just might have rethought our entire position on owning a dog.
Because honestly. Cuteness only gets you so far.
On that note, I have my big review tomorrow (joy) and need to get myself to bed to ensure I'll be fully functioning at an hour early enough to allow me to make it to work on time. After all, it just wouldn't be good to be tardy tomorrow of all days...
Oh... And for anyone who happens to run into my Mother before, oh let's say midnight, wish her a happy birthday!
Tell her I told you so...
Sipping Coffee Sigh
Now that I'm calm, I think a quiet night at home is just what the doctor ordered...
That is, if I ever went to one.
That is, if I ever went to one.
Neighbors From Hell
No matter what I say, no matter what I do... Neighbors from hell just keep popping up on my doorstep like a bad penny and a revolving door problem. Vin Diesel has turned out to be just as bad if not worse than Spinderella ever dreamed of being. Just with better music and no reasonable excuse.
His music however is turning out to be the least of my worries when what worries me most is that there's something about him that's not quite right. And that in itself causes me more worry than I'm willing to live with. Worried enough to call my landlord and tell him, to tell VD downstairs that there are certain things I will not tolerate. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.
And I refuse. Absolutely one hundred and one percent refuse to feel like my safety or that of my child's has been compromised by a man who evidently doesn't have a full grasp on the meaning of boundaries. Because there are boundaries. And there are rules. And I'll be damn if I'm going to let him cross any of them again. Even if that means going downstairs tomorrow morning to lay them out crystal clear face to face.
It's like my Mother once said, "A Momma bear will do whatever it takes to protect her cub."
His music however is turning out to be the least of my worries when what worries me most is that there's something about him that's not quite right. And that in itself causes me more worry than I'm willing to live with. Worried enough to call my landlord and tell him, to tell VD downstairs that there are certain things I will not tolerate. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.
And I refuse. Absolutely one hundred and one percent refuse to feel like my safety or that of my child's has been compromised by a man who evidently doesn't have a full grasp on the meaning of boundaries. Because there are boundaries. And there are rules. And I'll be damn if I'm going to let him cross any of them again. Even if that means going downstairs tomorrow morning to lay them out crystal clear face to face.
It's like my Mother once said, "A Momma bear will do whatever it takes to protect her cub."
Waking This Side of Sunrise
When picking out my puppy, I don't remember saying, "I'd like to get the one who wakes up every morning before six a.m."
Nope.
I swear to God I did not make any such request...
And all I want to do is go back to bed to be awakened by whatever tone it was I set for my alarm clock this week. I really can't remember which one I chose. Then again, why am I surprised? I've got the bite my fingers until I take Lucy out to go potty pup alarm.
There goes an arguement for technology right there.
Nope.
I swear to God I did not make any such request...
And all I want to do is go back to bed to be awakened by whatever tone it was I set for my alarm clock this week. I really can't remember which one I chose. Then again, why am I surprised? I've got the bite my fingers until I take Lucy out to go potty pup alarm.
There goes an arguement for technology right there.
Midlife Penis Envy
Can one have a midlife crisis if one is not in midlife? Or am I just trying to get a head start on being completely irrational and foolish while I'm still young enough to use age as my excuse?
I'm convinced this is a valid question.
Mostly because I'd like to keep my options open for a magical out just in case I decide to do anything very un-Stacey like in the immediate, in which I mean the next few weeks, future. Because Stacey - that would be me speaking of myself in third person like I'm not the one typing this, gets more than just a little bit frustrated when it comes to doing the right thing not just most of the time, but mostly all of the time.
I mean seriously, just between you, me and whatever fencepost happens to be listening at the moment, I think I've crossed over from the realm of boring right into the realm of one more Friday night at home spent on the couch reading a book and I think I'm going to lose my mind...
It's a travesty!
And yet, I've got to be honest. I've been on those sites. I've seen what the dating world has to offer and I'm quite convinced that my couch is a far safer place to be than with a man whose face reads more like a mug shot depicting his long list of crimes rather than a glowing endorsement for his date-ability... Of course, when you put a mug shot photo guy next to the I don't have my shirt on, stare at my manly chest, you know you want me man, I've got to say I'll take my chances with the convict and let I just like to be naked man well enough alone...
Still this means posting your own little resume online and finding just the right thing to say. But the more I try to be serious and write something that says a little bit about who I am, the more I sound like someone I wouldn't want to know, when I'm much happier posting something a little bit more like this...
I'm looking for...
Normal... And when I find it, I swear to the heavens above I will hold on
tight and to borrow a line from Titanic, "Never let go..."Normal however should
be accompanied by a tolerable sense of humor, a hopefully higher than almost
average IQ, the ability to be on time most of the time, parents you love but do
not live with, and that three-letter word we all know and love, a job...
One cannot live without sarcasm and I'll admit, I employ it probably more often than I should. Then again, sarcasm could just be a wall between the rest of the world and me. An I dare you to come in, but I don't really want you to want to try, let me save myself from being disappointed with you later on, kind of in my own best interest self defense.
Just call me Freud and give me a minute to figure out I've got penis envy as well and I'm sure this blog will get more interesting to read as the minutes roll by...
I say this, quite remarkably so, at the very same time my mind chooses to remember that I've got fudge pops in my freezer. And all I can think is, "Damn! I really do have penis envy."
Pet Peeves
1. Borrowed library books that give off the stench of cigarette smoke.
2. People who drive 55 mph in parking lots.
3. Alarm clocks.
4. Calling people I don't know.
5. Calling people I do know.
6. The tires on my car.
7. The price of milk. Gas. Orange juice. Everything...
8. Bumper stickers.
9. Movies with no plot and/or purpose.
10. Forwarded emails that threaten personal harm should you not forward them to ten more people.
11. Spelling that doesn't even come close to being hooked on phonics.
12. People who say Idear instead of Idea. Pacifically speaking that is...
13. People who don't get sarcasm.
14. Slurping.
15. Having to buy stamps.
2. People who drive 55 mph in parking lots.
3. Alarm clocks.
4. Calling people I don't know.
5. Calling people I do know.
6. The tires on my car.
7. The price of milk. Gas. Orange juice. Everything...
8. Bumper stickers.
9. Movies with no plot and/or purpose.
10. Forwarded emails that threaten personal harm should you not forward them to ten more people.
11. Spelling that doesn't even come close to being hooked on phonics.
12. People who say Idear instead of Idea. Pacifically speaking that is...
13. People who don't get sarcasm.
14. Slurping.
15. Having to buy stamps.
Re-examination of Purpose
I'm beginning to hate my job, which is something I haven't said in almost nine years. Nine years from the time I said I hated my job, printed out resumes, turned in my two weeks notice and began working where I currently work right now...
Every year during the firing squad, no blindfold provided hour to hour and a half allotment of time that is my review in front of my boss, my boss's boss, and the VP of our company, it's the same old story. Rate yourself from one to five. Five being exceptional and impossible to achieve, one being a warm body to fill an open chair and three being the grade you're most likely going to get because the middle ground is the safest place for any boss to peg you at without giving you credit for a job well done or saying he thinks you suck completely.
And every year I disagree with great enthusiasm to a grading system that believes anything over a three would be giving their employees way too much credit for doing exactly the jobs they were hired to do and do indeed do well, if not very well. Instead they temper their responses of what we hope will be a fair review and an appropriate wage increase with sentences that imply that with so much room for improvement, it would be a misappropriation of funds to give you that extra whatever percent above what they've already predetermined they were willing to give you, when they just don't think you're quite at that non-existent level just yet...
I could of course be wrong, but after nine years of surviving the inquest, I've learned that hard work, job pride, and company loyalty aren't guarantees when it comes to breaking through to the glass ceiling that for all intents and purposes has become my paycheck.
Despite this, and I do belive there are times when you have to say it out loud for all the world to hear, I know I do a damn fine job. I know I'm in the very top of the top tier for people with the same job as I. And I know that my customers think the world of me, will stay on hold forever just to talk to only me, and who in our years of doing business together, define the job I do with complimentary words.
Because that's what I do. I don't dick around and tell someone what they want to hear. I don't make excuses for mistakes that happen when they are without a doubt mine. I listen to what they have to say, solve their problem if I can, connect them to the right people if I can't, and give them the kind of customer service that quite honestly doesn't exist in all that many places anymore. And to me, what's most important is not the name of the company I work for, but the one the customer's know on a day-to-day basis every time I answer my phone and say hello.
Now with the time to take my place in the hot seat approaching once again, I ready myself to hit with points of fact and in my case perseverence. Armed as always with facts, figures, accomplishments and yes, even a few things that I know I still need to work a little bit harder on, to put on the proverbial table of judge me not for what you think I am, but for who I am and what you know I do.
And when they ask me this year that same old question that they have asked me every year, I know I cannot give the same response I've given since the first day I walked in their doors, a mere novice from the street. A response that has always been, "As long as I'm happy here, I'll be here."
The truth is, I'm just not happy with any of it anymore and I just can't imagine another year of trying to climb a ladder that I've lost all interest in climbing.
Every year during the firing squad, no blindfold provided hour to hour and a half allotment of time that is my review in front of my boss, my boss's boss, and the VP of our company, it's the same old story. Rate yourself from one to five. Five being exceptional and impossible to achieve, one being a warm body to fill an open chair and three being the grade you're most likely going to get because the middle ground is the safest place for any boss to peg you at without giving you credit for a job well done or saying he thinks you suck completely.
And every year I disagree with great enthusiasm to a grading system that believes anything over a three would be giving their employees way too much credit for doing exactly the jobs they were hired to do and do indeed do well, if not very well. Instead they temper their responses of what we hope will be a fair review and an appropriate wage increase with sentences that imply that with so much room for improvement, it would be a misappropriation of funds to give you that extra whatever percent above what they've already predetermined they were willing to give you, when they just don't think you're quite at that non-existent level just yet...
I could of course be wrong, but after nine years of surviving the inquest, I've learned that hard work, job pride, and company loyalty aren't guarantees when it comes to breaking through to the glass ceiling that for all intents and purposes has become my paycheck.
Despite this, and I do belive there are times when you have to say it out loud for all the world to hear, I know I do a damn fine job. I know I'm in the very top of the top tier for people with the same job as I. And I know that my customers think the world of me, will stay on hold forever just to talk to only me, and who in our years of doing business together, define the job I do with complimentary words.
Because that's what I do. I don't dick around and tell someone what they want to hear. I don't make excuses for mistakes that happen when they are without a doubt mine. I listen to what they have to say, solve their problem if I can, connect them to the right people if I can't, and give them the kind of customer service that quite honestly doesn't exist in all that many places anymore. And to me, what's most important is not the name of the company I work for, but the one the customer's know on a day-to-day basis every time I answer my phone and say hello.
Now with the time to take my place in the hot seat approaching once again, I ready myself to hit with points of fact and in my case perseverence. Armed as always with facts, figures, accomplishments and yes, even a few things that I know I still need to work a little bit harder on, to put on the proverbial table of judge me not for what you think I am, but for who I am and what you know I do.
And when they ask me this year that same old question that they have asked me every year, I know I cannot give the same response I've given since the first day I walked in their doors, a mere novice from the street. A response that has always been, "As long as I'm happy here, I'll be here."
The truth is, I'm just not happy with any of it anymore and I just can't imagine another year of trying to climb a ladder that I've lost all interest in climbing.
My New Writing Buddy
I'm counting on my spelling to be halfway decent, as there seems to be a quirk in the system when it comes to spell check. And as much as it annoys me to have no real outlet to complain to the powers of Blogger that be, I guess this is going to have to be one of those times where I just get over it regardless of how I really feel.
At the moment, Lucy is at what has now become her usual place to be whenever I find myself tapping away on my computer. Standing on it, and blocking my screen while attempting to lick, gnaw or chew my fingers seems to beat any chew toy I've tried to throw her way since bringing her home. Most of the time, and after a great deal of effort on my part to get her to cuddle quietly by my side, she settles down for a nap letting me get done whatever work it is I've been trying to do. Nevertheless, here again, I have to admit as to her interruptions, even as constant as they are, I truly don't mind. It's kind of nice to have a writing companion...
On the home front, things have been quietly getting back to something that almost resembles normal. We come home at the end of the day, make dinner, read for a while, play with the puppy, shower the cats with affection when they come downstairs long enough to remind us they still live here, call friends on the phone, have friends over, go to bed, and then wake up, albeit with much hesitation on our parts to physically leave our beds, to begin yet another new day.
Personally, I attribute most of the tiredness, at least on my part, to waking up two to three times a night just to make sure Lucy is, as we say in this house, "Where she needs to be, when she needs to be there."
On that note however, as boring as I know it truly is, I'm going to have to get around to calling it a night. After all, when the pup and the babe are sleeping, one must get some sleep herself...
Jotting A Note
I think exhaustion has finally caught up with me... I've been sleeping off and on all day, and although nothing on my list of things needing to be done got done, I almost feel as if today wasn't a total waste...
Snow, Sleet and Slight Irritation
Thank you inclement weather for sending me home a whole two hours early. On a night when I could have been stuck in the office until well after five o'clock, I'll take what I can get with nary a complaint.
My daughter however has made my shit list. And just as soon as she gets home, I'll be ready with a full on power point presentation to point out the oh so many errors of her ways... One of which includes her limited capacity for following through on the simplest of directions.
My daughter however has made my shit list. And just as soon as she gets home, I'll be ready with a full on power point presentation to point out the oh so many errors of her ways... One of which includes her limited capacity for following through on the simplest of directions.
