I got it bad, you got it good . . . .

Daniel is in the habit of saying “Is that bad?” or alternatively “Is that good?” when Mom or Dad say something. I think it is his way of learning values and developing his own bullshit barometer.

“Oh look at the sky . . . red sky in morn, sailors be warned.”

“Is that bad?” he’ll ask.

Sometimes I just say, “It just is” and then I’ll explain because not everything is bad or good, black or white.

Like this job for instance. There are things I hate and things I like but I digress . . .

Toto attacked Buster a few weeks ago and Daniel asked, “Is that bad?” Yes, it’s bad because now he bites people and dogs, I helpfully explained. The attacks are all about establishing dominance and usually involve food, so (knock on wood) I think the attacks are subsiding.

“Gingivitis”

“Is that bad?”

“Yes, it is. It’s gum disease.”

Bruises and bit marks from getting in the middle of a dominance, dog attack.

“Is that bad?”

“Yes it is.”

“Is it good to be the smallest state?”

I think so, because it makes us unique.

“Are worms (in dogs) bad?”

“Yes, they are.”

“What are carbohydrates? Are they bad?”

“If you eat too much of them, they are. You gotta have some fruits and veggies."

You get the idea. The bad and good continues and perhaps I should mix it up a little and when he asks me if something is bad, I’ll be really sarcastic and say it is good and then after he kind of looks confused and smiles I’ll say “Is that bad?”

Unrelated thoughts

• I inadvertently scammed the drive thru woman out of a muffin when she handed me my tea and change. “What ?” she wondered. “My muffin?” I wondered back. She scurried around clearly annoyed and put a muffin in a bag herself. This clearly was not part of the Dunkin Donuts system. As I drove off, I noticed two muffins on the seat beside me. And the thing is that I didn’t even remember her handing me the first muffin.

• On the holiday party front, my mother doesn’t ask people to bring anything to her parties because all anyone brings is dip and then all you have is lots of dip to throw away.
  
• 
  Addendum to why I might start smoking column:

• I can forget about the $1.4 million I need to accumulate to live at 85% of my current income in retirement – because I will die sooner.

• I can meet new people as I smoke outside restaurants and other establishments.

Children's Sermon

Well, let’s see we had Halloween, Thanksgiving and there is another big holiday coming up on Monday (Nov. 28^th). Does anyone know what that is?

It’s a very special day. It’s my birthday.

Some people hate birthdays. There are women who are 39 forever . . . but I love them.

What do you love about them? Cake, presents, ice cream, love . . . .

I love them because it’s your special day and you have people who love and care about you saying “You are special.” I wanna feel like that every day.

The only thing I don’t like about birthdays is the song. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear . . . .Happy birthday to you. Perhaps we could revise the words. We love you so much. We care about you. You look like a . . . . And you smell like one too. Just kidding about that last part.

The other thing I don’t like about birthdays is when my boys were little and the one with the birthday was getting all the attention and presents, the other one would get jealous and sad. When I was little, my grandmother had a solution for that. They were called love gifts. She would bring little gifts for everyone who didn’t have a birthday that day. Just some little thing but it made you feel good.

That to me is the whole idea. Love.

Dear God: Please help us remember how special we are and that we have people who love and care about us. Amen

Nightmares

Courtesy of Buster

I have a recurring nightmare (among those dealing with pregnancy at age 46 and exams/graduate thesis I forgot about) about walking through the halls of a nameless, faceless high school and being late/lost on my way to class. Well, that nightmare became a reality at the high school Back To School Night. When my son handed me his schedule – he offered to draw me a basic map. “What entrance will you start from?” he asked helpfully. “The auditorium . . . “ That was the last I heard of a map that never materialized.

As Iooked over his schedule with room numbers 102, 208, 307 and the like I said “How hard could it be – first floor, second floor, third floor.” “You’ll see,” he smiled.

Well, the hallways were extremely crowded and I was a bit claustrophobic. But I did find all of the classrooms, albeit, some of them later rather than sooner. I just took a stab at where I should go and in most cases ended up in the right place. That is except for one door that read “To Music Room, Room 218.” This door led to a sort of dead end room/stairway that was clearly not room 218. Also, sometimes the room numbers were not in sequence. Shouldn’t room 209 be near room 208? Sometimes consecutive numbers were at opposite ends of the hallway. So see some of my nightmare did come true.

On the upside, the teachers all seemed nice and fairly outgoing, or they were odd. There were a couple of odd ones. But that makes life interesting. Only one teacher seemed more quiet – the English teacher. Perhaps she is more cerebral.

It was like old home week walking through those halls and seeing many old friends from around town. I noticed that I felt a lot more confident that I did walking around in high school some 30 years ago and that was a good feeling. Progress, ain’t it grand?!

As the bells rang to switch classes, something else was not the same. The bells were fake, a recording piped in over the PA. How disappointing. Perhaps the bells don’t work anymore. Perhaps they did this because we weren’t on the normal bells schedule (5 minute classes). Perhaps no one else noticed but me. Odd. That’s what makes life interesting.

Still, I hope they have real bells.

Unrelated Thoughts

• In the joy department, we had one oblong, odd, oval shaped egg from our chickens. It turned out to have a double yolk. That was our thrill for the day.
  



• I’ve decided to be less stressed. Just this simple declaration seems to help.
  



• In the I told you so department, Buster literally trashed the house on recent rainy day. I warned Doug before I left that day that he would likely do some damage as he has been surreptitiously taking apart the dog house when outside.
  



• Love: Your Own Personal Blog Entry
  
  I had a good friend who died a while back who epitomized love. She was always so supportive and would give me a gift it seemed like everytime we got together. The thing is when she was dying and I spoke to her for the last time on the phone I didn't want to say "Thank you for being such a great friend" because that would suggest her ultimate demise. I said something lame like, "Well.........................." The point is I really appreciate you, our friendship, laughter and love. I feel like if I was really in need you would help me and I know if you were really in need I would help you. And that my friend is love. So I love you. Not in a lesbian kind of way but in a love kind of way. And I have guy friends I love too but wouldn't likelytell them for fear they would get the wrong idea. For the record: I am not a lesbian. I feel blessed and lucky to have you as a friend. And I know I was blessed and lucky to have Helen as a friend - though I didn't really tell her because I didn't want to suggest it was the end.

Paper or plastic? It's paper all the way

Paper lunch bags may not be all that environmental compared with insulated, reusable ones but they are cool and that's important at a certain age. They were all we had when I was young and today they are also paying big dividends for Mom (more on that in a minute).

The boys don't want to bring their LLBean insulated lunch bags to school anymore because they are NOT cool. I personally don't see what the problem is, really. Matthew told me that only some of the 7th grade girls still bring the insulated bags. Oh yes, these boys are hip with their brown bags. And I should have seen this coming last year when Michael would sneak his packed lunch out of the insulated bag and surreptitiously transfer it to a paper one.

Being cool is very important. And if you're not, I can't help you.

When I explained that all this wasn't very environmentally friendly, they suggested they could bring the brown bags home to re-use. (I haven't seen evidence of this yet.)

Confession: This made me remember Mary Darling, who we judged very harshly for this as caddy girls in 6th grade. I can see her wrinkled lunch bag carefully folded up flat, on top of her pile of school books to this day. Mary, I would respect you now.

There is an upside of all this brown paper bag trash. For some reason (it probably has to do with all the 'weird' and probably uncool things I would put in their lunches), the boys are now packing their own lunches! Can you spell Hallelujah? There are a couple of different ways . . .

Confession: I would sometimes put things in the boys lunches that they might not always eat at home because I know when I am at work and away from the cornucopia of food choices at home - I will eat almost anything.

Unrelated thoughts

• Daniel found a patch of wild time while peeing in the brush before a soccer game. I am not kidding, I verified that it was thyme. What 7 year old boy recognizes this herb in a pile of weeds?


• I confess my driver's license has listed me at 142 since high school. I was 142 or less ONCE in those 30 years. You gotta have hope, right?


• "I got only 2 wrong on my assessment," Daniel explained. "What's that?" I asked. "You don't know what an assessment is?" he asked playfully and somewhat incredulously. This boy may have a career as a politician . . . .or a botanist. Time will tell.

There's an omnivore in the house

There is a nectarine missing from this bowl.

I didn't know dogs ate fruit - well I did really because as a girl, our labs and golden retrievers would follow me around with the hopes of eating my apple core or the end of my carrot. These used to be snack foods - not sure if kids today even know what the end of a carrot is. Anyway, back to dogs and fruit, let me rephrase - I didn't know dogs ate fruit right out of the fruit bowl, until recently. Recently, that is when I discovered a missing nectarine from the fruit bowl and Buster with it out on the deck, munching away. You see, Buster has a very bad or is it smart? habit of getting his paws right up on the counter and helping himself to what he wants. This includes the compost, butter, fruit bowl, drinking glasses, dishes, you name it. Don't leave an apple out on the counter - it will get confiscated by an omnivorous canine.

In the another great habit category - Buster, when wet, likes to dry himself off on people's pants legs or the curtains. Isn't that cute?

Speaking of canines - Toto nipped at another victim. This 'nip' created a couple pin size holes in the boys shirt. The boy was scared of Toto, making too much eye contact, recoiling and Toto growled and bit his shirt. Good thing for clothing. That was that. My best hope is to give young, fearful visitors handfuls of steak to re-program Toto's anxiety about strangers in the house. Outside, he 'seems' better . . .

Unrelated thoughts

• What's worse than gray hair - a bad dye job. A friend waved to me at a crowded restaurant from a good 60 feet away and I could easily see the skunky strip where her roots would be.


• Thank you to my women friends who I will call my e-support group. It helps get me through the day.


• My boss likes me to use a bigger, bolder font in email. He thinks it looks more important. For this reason, perhaps bigger is better and makes more of an impression.


• Seen on school medical form: Check all that apply - absence of one lung.


• When I complained about a certain 'control freak' at work, the boys declared "You become the control freak." Isn't that supportive of my guys?


• In the bad karma department - my mother dismantled my grandmother's engagement ring - as well as one of my favorite, tangible memories of my grandmother. She took the emerald out and put it in gaudy yellow gold. That Tiffany setting will never be the same. This ring was really how most of us remember my grandmother but mom couldn't look at it without thinking of Gram's bony finger. Well, well, well that new ring with the old emerald has gone missing, stolen she thinks. It doesn't really matter how. But don't worry, my mom still has Gram's old ring with a nice amethyst replacement stone. Yuk.


• Stories from Mom when visiting this summer: -She thought she heard Daniel howling like a wolf one night. My guess it was the coyotes in the nearby woods. -She brought and thought about mixing up some 15 year old spinach dip from a packet. This would be presented to ladies coming over for drinks - my mother bought this dip from one of them who owned a store that closed some 15 years ago. I did not allow her to make this dip. She thought it would be interesting . . . who keeps packets of spinach dip for 15 years and brings them on trips? -Finally, she related how her family had chickens and a duck growing up. She and her brother would fight over the duck egg and often end up breaking it. "Why my parents never thought of alternating who got the duck egg, I don't know," Mom explained. A very good point.

Signs of Intelligence

Is Buster (the new dog) smart or stupid? You be the judge. O.K., yes, he's kind of goofy but in a loveable and affectionate way. And with his new haircut he looks a bit like a cartoon character - Deputy Dawg, perhaps.

As I said to Michael, how stupid can a dog be that knows how to open the slider? - both the screen door and the glass door, mind you.

The screen is easy. He kind of gets his long nose in there and pushes it to his right. So that doesn't demonstrate tremendous intelligence. But the glass door, that is something else entirely. He rubs his body right against the door - pushing against the glass for firm contact and he slides himself along side it backwards to open it. Smart, right?

If he wants to investigate something like the countertop or the trash, he does so my standing on his hind legs or nosing his way into the cabinet to get at the trash. No matter how many times you tell him NO, he continues to do what he wants.

My friend Nan says Labradoodles (a mutt really) have no remorse. Perhaps he is just compartmentalizing aka. Bill Clinton. I actually think be might be a Houndoodle (not a real breed) as he was rejected from the puppy mill.

Since we returned from vacation, Buster has peed in the house at least twice, that I know of. Once, after eating his dinner outside on the deck, he let himself back in the house and peed and pooped on the rug - in the same vicinity he apparently used while we were away. Smart, huh?

Then he did it again, continuing his business even with my repeated banging of a spoon on the dining room table. Like I said, he does what he wants. . .

And that includes:

-Coming when called! (Biscuits help)
-Chewing pencils, shoes, recycling (especially cardboard), etc.
-Barking to come in the house
-Trying to climb in human laps
-Excess affection, exhuberance for human owners
-Sitting/resting on human feet for maximum contact
-Running away from irritated humans (with the TV remote in his mouth, for instance)
-Scaring chickens after repeated warnings
-Latching on to Toto's tail (and not letting go)
-Eating freshly picked garden string beans from the collander,while reclining atop the outdoor table

BOOK? continued

Scene V

Horoscope: To get what you want, you have to do what you fear the most.

As soon as I read it, I knew what my greatest fear was: getting into a relationship with Brad or anyone for that matter. Or more specifically, jumping into bed with him or someone else. A close second would be singing in public or dancing in public. Doing any of those things in the nude would up the ante on my fear factor. A close third would be confronting the bitchy woman at work who was trying to sabatoge my career.

For extreme fear to set in for all three, sobriety would be required. Another fear that come to mind would probably be getting my dream job and utterly failing at it. Well shit. That’s just how this day was gonna go. Face your fears because living a life based on fear was no way to live.

Upon this realization, I immediately stood up a little straighter and walked a little bolder with the determination to face my fear – which ever one it may be.

After driving and singing at the top of my lungs (even while sitting in traffic) I arrived at the office – on time no less – and who did I see immediately while walking into the building – Brad. Yikes. I wasn’t even in the door yet and there he was smiling, very handsome, and I immediately felt like I wanted to kiss him right then and there. But I didn’t even though I was supposed to conquer my fears. This was work afterall and the hallway was not the place. But God he was handsome. Very. I didn’t know what to say . . .so he said “Good Morning” in his deep baritone and then “I want to take you out tonight.” He didn’t ask. He didn’t tell. He stated what he wanted and it was so sexy. What could I say but “Yes.” That was all I could muster my mouth to say. I didn’t even know when or where or any answers to these seemingly insignificant questions. All I knew was I was floating on cloud 9. I suddenly felt underdressed and undergroomed and flabbergasted and filled with butterflies. It wasn’t going to be a productive day.

I spent most of the day, day dreaming, thinking about what I would say, wear, where we would go but all that thinking was for naught because at 5:00 p.m Brad whisked himself into my cube and said “Ready or not?” “We are going now? I hardly feel ready,” I said. “You look perfect,” he said. Not beautiful, but perfect. Not bad. I could take perfect. No one was left in the office but Terry and she popped her head up. All I could see was her coy smile. “Have fun,” she quipped.

As we were walking out, Brad held the door with one hand and I felt the other brush the small of my back – escorting me through the door.

I felt like a schoolgirl and all awareness of where I was going and walking vanished. Soon I was escorted into a cozy booth in a restaurant a block away – drinking a Cosmo (dangerous) and starring into Brad’s eyes – enthralled by his witty remarks. He seemed to be enthralled with me as well. After two Cosmos (very dangerous) and a bite to eat (helpful but not enough) and wine with dinner, we were at a crossroads. When we walked out of the restaurant and the one block back to the employee parking lot – he grabbed my hand. Oh boy. As I leaned back on my car, he leaned into me and kissed me, embracing my face with his hand. Though I was feeling a little woozy, there was no doubt I was ready to wobble on over – if I hadn’t been braced by the car and Brad’s body, now leaning into me. We were still at a crossroads. He didn’t stop kissing me and I didn’t stop kissing him. I felt natural and comfortable even though I hadn’t kissed him before or anyone for a while, for that matter. “Come home with me,” I heard him say. Not in my wildest dreams would I sleep with someone on a first date but honestly (horoscope aside) I was a feeling of lust, love, and comfort came over me. Plus I was definitely a little drunk. Well, maybe even more than a little. Perhaps he just didn’t want to see me driving home in my condition. Before I could even remember how to spell conniption, we were inside the door of his apartment – ripping each others’ clothes off. I didn’t have time to think about being scared. Animal instincts took over. When the deed was done, it was all a little bit surreal – lying there with Brad, but still comfortable. He didn’t ask me to leave and with the Cosmos etc. still circulating through my system, I didn’t think about it.

We talked a little and before I knew it I was asleep like a baby with my head nuzzled up on his chest. And before I knew it, it was 5:00 a.m. and I could feel my contacts glued to my eyes. I quickly got up, not even realizing where I was or what I was doing. As I stumbled into the bathroom – I stumbled into Brad. Oh boy. This felt more awkward that the night before and I didn’t feel close to being at my best – with bed head, morning breath, no clothes on, you name it. But he didn’t seem to mind. No. He kissed me and said good morning. Good morning. I lingered a minute and then realizing I was fully naked excused myself into the bathroom. I swished water into my mouth, splashed water on my face, but the water did little to relieve me. I found my clothes in a heap at the foot of the bed and put them on – feeling very rumpled indeed. “What’s your hurry?” he asked. “I don’t know. I guess it is Saturday,” I said a little sheepishly. “You are not going anywhere.” “Oh really, why?” “Well for one thing, you don’t have your car. And for another . . . oh here we go again. The kissing, the touching and the next thing I knew we were on the bed back where this all began. Afterwards, he offered to make me breakfast but all I really wanted was a cup of strong coffee and a shower. “Can I take a shower?” I asked.

When I got out of the shower, all my clothes were folded up in the bedroom with a clean t-shirt, blue jeans (too big), and a sweatshirt. “I put some clothes out.” Yes he did. And after all the physical intimacy, I suddenly didn’t know what to talk about. There, on the table amid the plates of scrambled eggs, toast and fruit was the paper. Dare I look?

Whether it’s a job, deal, or relationship you’re excited to get into, don’t let your eagerness show. Play it cool.

Hmmm. Too late for that. Doesn’t having sex twice on the first date indicate that you are kind of interested. Cool. Cool. Cool. Well I was kind of tired. I looked across the table and there he was smiling ear to ear. So much for cool. He sure was cute.

After breakfast, he drove me to my car and I tried to play it cool. “Thanks. I had a really good time and I’ll get these clothes back to you.” “No rush,” he said. Instead of more kissing, he leaned in and gave me a big bear hug. – the kind where you can feel the power and love coursing from one body to the other. “O.K.” I said and pulled away. “What are you going to do today?” he wondered. I said with a smile, “Well, I am kind of tired.” So much for playing it cool. I couldn’t suppress that grin.

When I got home in the baggy clothes, I could see my message light blinking. It was the Coastal Institute offering me the PR job. Play it cool. It was Saturday after all. So they’d have to wait until Monday. Suddenly, life was moving very fast. I’d slept with someone twice in 12 hours and I had my dream job offer. Hmmm. Time for a nap.

Can you die of boredom?

I know you can die of a broken heart, but can you die of boredom? It occurred to me as I was sitting at my desk with very little, if anything meaningful to do - and I was reviewing my goals for my life - that I want to do something that excites me. It was an ephiphany of sorts. Something that excites me. Does getting a PhD excite me? No, not really. But the title and jobs and opportunities that I could get with that PhD excite me more. The drudgery of coursework does not - though the idea was it would give me something to do whilst I sit at work with nothing to do.

The biggest thing on my list that excites me is writing songs and my intention to sell some hits for significant money. Hobbies also excite me - parties, friends, recreation. The thought just came to me the other day - that movies excite me and re-opening the theater in downtown Wakefield would be awesome.

Sitting at work at a desk does nothing for me. It's almost soul killing. It's like an 8 hour sentence and I am let out in the yard for a half hour of exercise each day.

Writing excites me but sitting down with the ass power to write a book does not. Spending time with my husband and family is exciting, as are vacations and time off. Getting fit excites me. Making money and owning real estate excites me.

The lack of flexibility in this job is killing me. An awesome job that enthuses me excites me. Something I love and am good at with flexibility, helping others, leading projects, requiring travel, creativity and something that is useful, valuable, meaningful.

It just occurred to me. I would make a very good philantropist when I make my millions.

Buying stocks and making money excites me. Renovating aspects of the house excites me. You get the idea.

I almost think this will be my new mantra - excitement. It's no different from following your bliss. Or doing what brings you joy.

But back to work where I have the blahs big time. As my co-worker likes to say "Would you like some whine with that cheese?" I want the pay - so perhaps it is up to me to make this more exciting with a new office, flexible schedule, travel, more responsibility and a new attitude. HELP - MORE COPING SUGGESTIONS NEEDED.

Unrelated thoughts
- "He's like an annoying little brother," I said about the new puppy who constantly chews on Toto. "Heyyyyyyyyyyyyy," said Daniel (the little brother) who was within earshot. "That's not what I meant. . ." I tried to explain.

- After watching Marley and Me Daniel told me he cried. "I cried a little after Sassy died," I consoled. "This wasn't a little," he said.

- The automatic, low flush toilets go off when you walk into the stall, when you sit up to wipe, when you get up to leave. Very efficient, don't ya think?

Puppies and things

Coping in an office job isn't easy, especially after you have had almost
unlimited flexibility for the last 10 years.

The sitting is the hardest. Luckily being a writer, I can cope with the
downtime.

Here are some of my coping strategies for office or cubicle dwellers:

1) Get up and go to the bathroom, even when you don't have to go. Otherwise your hamstrings will get very tight.
2) Take up smoking. This will provide you with regularly scheduled breaks -
depending on your addiction level, at a distance well away from your building.
3) Kill yourself (or see above).
4) Remove all clocks from the office and your wristwatch too. Can that infernal clock at the bottom right of my computer screen be removed? This sitting all day, though not as painful, is akin to childbirth in some ways. The nurses noticed I kept looking at the clock on the wall when I was in labor with Daniel. They took that clock right down so I wouldn't dwell on the time. Duh?
5) Walk at lunch, even if you don't want to.
6) Chat with co-workers, even if you don't want to or don’t particularly like them. It will help the time pass.
7) The internet offers lots of options. I did discover the stinkhorn mushroom on the internet one day at work. This can be a dangerous game . . .
8) Fake it until you make it. Pick up your feet when you walk into the building each morning. It will make a difference. I can look at myself in the shiny glass exterior. Pick up your feet.
9) Mint. Someone brought in a bunch of mint and put it out in the common area. I pinched off a leaf and smelled it the rest of the day. It made me feel better. Aromatherapy.
10) Bask in the boredom and learn chair yoga. You could get very relaxed. Note to self: Look up chair yoga.

Unrelated thoughts
"I wish Toto wasn't neutered," Daniel said. "Why?" "Duh, so we could have puppies." When I explained we would still need another dog, he asked about the neighbor’s dog 'Harry' -"Is Harry a girl?" "No, Harry is a boy name. I've never heard of a girl named Harry," I explained. "Well it could be short for Harriet," he said thoughtfully.


A new puppy reminds me: There is a lot of joy in life – chasing tails, nibbling on new, older brother’s ears, latching on to new older brother’s tail, clumsy gangly puppy legs, little puppy hops, puppies chasing bees/flies/things that blow in the wind like leaves or the hair I just cut off his back, soft puppy fur, complete devotion, and this puppy besides being so darned cute seems so happy.

Coping

I have had several readers give me excellent suggestions for coping all day at work. So here they are:

Do isometrics for my sore gluteus maximus muscles while I sit in my chair.

Get some type of Ipod device and earphones to play books on tape at work.

Get a digital picture frame - so I can look at a rotation of family and inspirational pictures.

Here is a top ten list of things that are great about my new job

Stinkhorn mushroom (do not touch or your hands will smell like dung all day)

This is instead of dwelling on the negative . . . which includes sitting all day.

1. I constantly feel young, as my boss is 78.

2. I feel slim and fit, in a relative way. (I know comparison isn't helpful but it's only natural.)

3. I feel better about my deteriorating eyesight - because it's not that bad.

4. I have three doors in my office, so if there is ever a fire, I am sure to get out.

5. Someone knows where I am at all times, so I am very secure in this federal facility.

6. I feel pretty good about my deteriorating handwriting, too.

7. I am getting good at sitting in a chair all day, doing very little. Perhaps this will get me ready for retirement.

8. This job of being a well-paid typist makes me realize how capable I am. How I long to manage projects and how I like regular human interaction.

9. If boredome is a good thing, I should be very happy.

10. $$$. As the women at PD's Pizza in Peace Dale so eloquently explained when discussing what they liked about their jobs. That just about sums it up. That and the fact that I discovered on Google what that gorgeous, stinky lilly-looking ground growth that I found on my walk with Toto was - a stinkhorn mushroom. I felt like an early explorer, really.

Next time:

Coping mechanisms for office/cubicle dwellers. It's a long day and we could all use some strategies for coping.

Stinkhorn

Here's what I saw - a mystery.

Filling up the tank

I have morphed into a well-paid typist and I was never that good of a typist. But there you have it. And I have started filling up my gas tank when it's half full. It seems less painful that way. Speaking of half full, my boss at 78 is probably driving on half full and I am travelling in his fumes. More on that next time - I promise.

Unrelated thoughts
-Seen at a landscaping store: 'Unattended children will be given a capuccino and a free puppy.'
-Seen at a pet store: 'Children should be on a lease at all times (something like that).'
-I don't have pretty feet.
-I found an orange, lilly like plant that grows v. close to the ground that smells like DUNG when you touch it. The beautiful orange leaves? emit at brown, sludgy slime that lasts all day even with washing.
-My adjustment to work has made me realize this is how regular working people feel - STRESSED. Yikes. There's a whole world of people out there who need care and patience.
-BIMBO. This was seen displayed prominently on a man's belly in Belmont, on a soccer/biking Euro-type of shirt.
-My mom's doctor died at 42. She doesn't know why but he died at home and she didn't think he had cancer. For some reason, this makes me feel justified sitting in the sun without sun screen. If I died tommorrow, I wouldn't regret one minute of sitting in the sun.
-A new dog would make me happy and make me feel like I have some control of my life ie. I can do what I want given the confines of the job. Also, it may? make Toto more relaxed with visitors.
-The reality is I can't write what I want about the job in a public forum. But if I was on unemployment, I would probably be worrying about money and bored out of my mind.
-Brillant idea for the day: A SOLSTICE PARTY. I wont' be exactly on the solstice but it will be entitled a 'Close Enough' party.
-BJ is one of those unfortunate nicknames that didn't denote what it means now when it was doled out - like 'Gay', a nickname with which I am well acquainted.
-I am focusing on what brings me joy with the confines of a new job. Because I feel more entitled. It's all good, right?

Good reasons to take up smoking

There are many good reasons to take up smoking. Though I must admit I have never smoked, recently I have been considering starting the habit and here's why.

• My ice cream and beer diet isn't working. Perhaps if I started smoking I would lose, say 10 pounds, easy. That would put me close to my ideal weight.



• I could take regular smoking breaks at work at some federally-sponsored distance from the building.



• The smoking might help me with the stress of the new job. It might even relieve my twitching eye.



• Smoking might turn my voice into something more sultry, for singing sexy ballads.



• It would give me something to spend my disposable income on rather than $5,350 for braces (times two), $2,000 for jr. leadership trip to D.C. (borderline scam), and $5,125 for the new oil burner. Thought this last listing is providing the benefit of hot showers even while the dishwasher or the washing machine are running. A minor miracle.



• I would look cool for once in my life. Picture a female, middle-aged housewife version of James Dean.



• I wouldn't worry about wrinkles because no one would get close enough to notice. Or smokers just take wrinkles as they come. Acceptance. Like an AA kind of thing.



• Finally, I could get some of those t-shirts with pockets and have a pack squarely displayed over my left breast. If those shirts needed washing, I could roll the pack up in the t-shirt sleeve, squarely displayed on my left shoulder. Cool.

Unrelated thoughts

• 
  
  "I am not here to judge." This was uttered by a waitress at the Pump House after I ordered a cheeseburger.


• 
  
  An ex-colleague described his job as 'tolerable' while another was spouting ecstatically via a blog about finding her purpose in life and how great that feels. This new job has me questioning both - of course the purpose one sounds better but that doesn't always pay the bills. In my new job (I can't write too much as someone from work could possibly read this), all leadership and responsibilities have been dropped and I have morphed into a well paid typist for my 78 year old boss. Increased pay and no real responsibilities. Or as we decided at dinner the other night am I just so smart that the job is easy for me? There is much to write about this and perhaps it is a topic for next time. As in life, how do I know this is the right situation for me? Should I give it a year and then evaluate? I feel trapped in the 8-4:30 cell with no flexibility. Or am I just whinning? This is life for many folks. And I have had the luxury of 10 years of flexibility. For example, I don't know if I can play tennis this winter on Friday mornings. Should I ask and see if I can still play make up the time? I am thinking about getting a PhD in Marine Affairs. I can't play tennis and ask for time to take 1 class/semester. Michael has his graduation from 8th grade soon. Do I go and make up the time? Doug is away next week and I will have trouble squeezing my hours in, not to speak of exercise. Though I could solve this last one with smoking. Perhaps smoking is the key to everything. Yes, smoking.

Old, fat, slow

The other day when I was feeling old, fat and tired. Or was it old, fat, and slow? I thought to myself, and I quote: "Is that redundant?" But it's just how I felt as we were getting our hynies whipped in a tennis match. I didn't seem to have any umph.

But, still I refuse to believe we have to succumb to lethargy with age. My new boss is 78 afterall. When I think about most men, or women for that matter at 78 - they are certainly napping every day. So I gotta keep up with the boss. No napping on the job.

Meanwhile, my son Michael said something the other day "Well I will be someday" - in regard to fatness. "We live in America. Everybody gets fat." He sees it as an inevitability with age.

But I refuse to believe it even though I am aging and gaining lbs. I will stem the tide. I will fight the fight. I will not give in. I will halt the slide.

Unrelated thoughts

-My eye is twitching and I have a deep constriction in the middle of my forehead where my third eye should be. This is all related to the new f/t job. I hope it will subside soon.

-There is nothing like the feeling of new socks.

-My boss can't always/often read his own handwriting. That happens to me sometimes at 45.

-Oh, how I feel for cubicle workers everywhere.

-Daniel's initials etched onto the hood of my car are kind of growing on me. . .

My little angel

Innocent or guilty? You be the judge.

I know. I know. It's been a while since my last blog entry. And there is no excuse for that or my e-book that I started on this site and have let drop. And things are not going to get better in that regard. I am about to get busy with a new job. But then again you never know. Sometimes when you have too much time - you do nothing with it. And sometimes when you have less time, you write or paint or whatever it is you do - for sanity's sake. To say, yes I do have some control over my life. And even though I am busy or board out of my mind, I will be creatively satisfied. Even if it takes some determined organization, scheduling and efficiency. In fact, I have noticed that sometimes when I am my most busy, I am my most creative. Those brain cells get firing and the ideas flow. Let's hope!

In the meantime, I've discovered random scratching, or keying on the paint job of my relatively new car. Upon closer inspection, the letters D A N I were clearing visible on the hood. Upon closer questioning, DANIEL revealed he was writing in the frost of my car one morning. Writing with what? A rock? He claims it was only his finger. My little angel has one sharp finger. Note: He did apologize.

Unrelated thoughts

• 
  
  In the, THERE IS A GOD DEPARTMENT, my aunt and another older woman told me that they know some older women who have lost weight and actually look older with their sunken in cheeks. So keep on those pounds ladies. You don't want to look like a shruken up old woman.


• 
  
  When recording some vocals for my new CD, the producer said to me: "We are not making a Brittany Spears album" - implying that every note does not have to be perfect. What? I am not the next Brittany Spears?


• 
  
  Travelling on a recent road trip, Daniel said, "That is my favorite sound - like a heartbeat" as the road joints rolled on by. . .


• 
  
  On the same road trip he said (I groaned), "This is very entertaining for me" referring to the license plate game.


• 
  
  On the same road trip (it was two days in the car - each way) he asked Michael if he had a girlfriend. No. "You should try to get one," Daniel said. Why. "So you can get married." Of course.


• 
  
  Bumper stickers on the same road trip: Visualize whirled peas. Caution: Driver singing.


• 
  
  The benefits of a suntan include making your teeth look whiter. Who knew?


• 
  
  As my aunt chopped up carrots and celery her then three year old son asked: "What are you doing?" She told him that she was going on a diet and he asked: "Oh, can I go too?"


• 
  
  A life governed by fear, is no life at all. Prior to our road trip my mother remined me not to go in the ocean, because there are sharks, to ask about bedbugs at all hotels, and to beware of purse snatching outside the Marriott. "Excuse me, but do you have bedbugs here?"

Unrelated thoughts only

• It's starting. I am not kidding - I suddenly forgot the last two digits of my social security number while filling out a form at the doctor's office.
  
• What will I occupy myself with for the next three months? Time will tell, but according to Doug sometimes employment can be better than unemployment. Wise words.
  
• Classic line from Daniel in the midst of snarfing down a big bowl of something sinful: "Oops, I forgot to eat healthy!"
• I hugged Michael, 14, the other day and he said in an indignant tone "What are you doing?"
• A car pulled up next to me in the parking lot - to park, while I was practicing singing along w/ the professional music for some new songs. They quickly pulled away like I was a crazy person.
  
• There were two brothers over the other night - 7 and 5 and I realized that I am passed the wild boy stage. They were wild and I felt like my mother, to a degree.
  
• Toto nipped the younger one "He bit me the boy yelled." No blood. No foul.
  

Silent power - scene IV

The next day, I proceeded wearily out of the house in my PJs, bathrobe and slippers to retrieve the paper. No I wasn’t feeling too peppy after a night of drinking and dancing and little sleep. When I got inside, and opened up the paper, I found my next instructions. Horoscope: It’s extremely tempting to overexert your influence – perhaps by interrupting, talking too loud or overtaking a situation that is not exactly your business. Instead chose silent power. Hmm. Silent power, I thought. Silent power. Uggh. I quickly ran to the toilet with the dry heaves. Maybe it’s a good day for silence, I thought. After a long hot shower, some strong black tea, and no breakfast I managed to get myself to work not much later than usual. I saw Terry and brought her a coffee that I had picked up on-route. “Whose idea was the dancing anyway?” I joked. “Whose idea were the shots?” she asked. Uggh. I see Brad approaching and avoiding him is almost impossible. “Hi, how are you?” he asked. Uggh. “Late night?” he wondered. “Mmmm. Hmmm.” I muttered. “Wanna try lunch or are you walking again?” “O.K.” I replied. Though I had momentarily forgotten all about the silent power thing, I wasn’t feeling too talkative anyway and I heard Terry filling him in on our wild night as I slowly made my way to my cube. Later in the morning my boss asked me to come to his office for a discussion about a nasty co-worker. She was so nasty she had tried to sabotage my reputation with colleagues, had my computer password changed to try to prove I was trying to break into the secure network, and I had even caught her snooping through my desk. “It’s all public information” was her guilty reply. “What’s your take on Mitchell,” he asked, using her last name. Though I thought she was a cancer for the entire office all I said was “I’d rather not comment, but she could certainly be more of a team player.” Later Terry told me she heard the boss on the phone saying (I am not kidding) “That Alex knows when to keep her mouth shut. She’d rather not focus on the negative.” When Terry asked me about it later she said, “Why didn’t you say anything about that bitch? You hate her.” No response. “Oh no don’t tell me it was the horoscope thing. What did it say today?” As I hear her rustling in her adjacent cube for the newspaper. “Silent power?” Terry stated incredulously. “And here I thought you were just hung over. “That too.” I said. Later that morning, Jim, our department head popped his head in and immediately started laying in to me. “Why isn’t that project wrapped up yet? I was supposed to be done nine months ago. I had Purchasing coming up my drain. They want that money spent. The books cleared. How about it Alex?” After the tirade I said, “I’m not offering any excuses (though there were plenty of people who hadn’t given me their final reports to compile). I’ll take care of it by the end of the week.” I decided I would put this project to bed one way or the other. I was tired of being dependent on others to fulfill my deadlines. I would proceed with some creative writing. “O.K. Alex that sounds good,” Jim said, a little humbled. He immediately ran into the big boss and said, “She said she’d take care of it by next week.” “I’m sure she will,” said the boss. “She knows when to keep her mouth shut and when to put her nose to the grindstone.” After this drama and about an hour of creative writing to get the project report done. I heard Brad’s voice. “Ready?” he asked. I smiled and followed him to the door. He definitely looked nice from the backside but I resolved to stick to my silent power over lunch. And I listened and listened over lunch to details about his family, childhood, and hobbies. I interjected a question here or there but mostly stayed quiet or silent if you will. He seemed to enjoy himself immensely and I surprised myself by finding most of the talk quite interesting – even with my pounding headache. Later Terry, the office busy body, ran into Brad in the break room and asked him about our lunch. “She’s great,” he gushed. Oh God. I started to get nervous butterflies when she told me that. Relationships were one of my greatest fears. In fact, I’d only had one boyfriend a long time ago and that ended badly. Yikes.

Scene III

Brad came to my cube at 12:30 p.m. promptly. I like a man with good timing.

"O.K. ready to go," I said a little nervously and proceeded to head for the exit.

I had changed into my spandex workout pants, a sleeveless shirt, and running sneakers. Brad, meanwhile, had taken off his coat and tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves.

I looked down at his shoes as I held the door for him. "You gonna be able to keep up in those?" I asked.

"Not a problem," he said.

I scampered down the stairs and he quickly followed.

"So do you walk a lot," Brad asked.

"No I just started," I explained but I didn't get into the whole horoscope prediction of all my dreams coming true with fitness. "Just trying to get in shape," I said.

I could hear Brad huffing and puffing as we exited the building.

"Well, you walk fast . . . ." he said as he jogged a little to keep up.

That was about the extent of our conversation. I was so hell-bent on getting my heart rate up and concentrating stride for stride that I almost forgot about Brad entirely.

After a half hour of huffing and puffing and hoofing it up six flights of stairs, I said, "Well thanks."

"Yeah, thanks," he said, sounding a little bewildered at the whole experience.

Back at my cube, I was sweating profusely. Terry popped her head up. "So what did you two talk about?"

"Not much. I was walking really fast. It wasn't exactly conducive to conversation."

"You are clearly out of your mind," Terry said. Just then the phone rang.

"No I can't make it today . . .Maybe next week. Yeah. O.K. Thanks." Then I hung up.

"Who was that?" Terry asked.

"Oh, it was that job I told you about. Being the public relations director for the Coastal Institute. It was nothing. They were just calling for a follow-up session tonight."

"And why pray tell couldn't you make it tonight?" Terry asked.

"Because you and I are going out."

"Out where?" Terry asked.

"Out dancing. Right after we go to the Y."

"And that's more important than your dream job?"

"Yes."

"But you wanted that job."

"I know but my horoscope said: fitness first and the rest will follow. Plus I don't want to appear desperate."

"Wait, wait, wait. Your horoscope?"

"Yeah."

"You are crazy."

"Maybe. But what if it works?"

"So why the dancing?"

"It's supposed to be a high energy night."

Unrelated thoughts

• I give myself permission to write complete and utter crap.
• I might die of boredom someday - but not today.
• Seen on a bathroom door at Crazy Burger: The light is on the outside. That's deep.
• What is the male equivalent of a mistress?
• Doug said I seem to be happier knowing this job is ending . . .
• Can humans really live with only two weeks of vacation?

Scene III

Scene II

I was feeling giddy with excitement when I schlepped out to retrieve the paper the next morning.


Horoscope

The things you really want are interconnected. Make health your top priority and other unrelated personal goals are attained in the process. It's a cheerful, high energy night.


Wow. This is just what I need, a little direction, I thought. Immediately, I picked up my feet a little higher and strode a little faster on my way back into the house.


After a shower, coffee, getting dressed (not necessarily in that order) I eventually got to work - thinking the whole non-descript ride about the excitement of losing 20 pounds. Though I wasn't exactly sure what my unrelated personal goals were - I would attain them all with health and fitness. Perhaps a job I loved. A man of my dreams. What else? The world was my oyster.


I would walk/jog at lunch and not eat. I would hit the gym after work. I would have a salad for dinner and no alcohol. (I'll see about that last one).


I had made up my mind and very little work got done that morning as I day dreamed at my desk about getting fit. And I quickly realized if I didn't initiate work in the form of conversations, emails, phone calls - I received none in return. Do nothing and have nothing to do.


In the midst of a very good day dream - picturing my rippled abs as I strode the shoreline in my bikini - Brad popped his head in.


We were friends, no more but occaisionally I sensed some subdued flirting.


He was over six feet tal, fit, nice, funny but I had been in countless seminars warning employees not to get involved with a fellow employee. And he was a fellow alright. So I didn't pursue it or give him any encouragement. Apparently, he had other ideas.


"Wanna get a bite for lunch?" he asked.


"Oh, gee thanks. I have something going on today. Maybe another time."


"What about a drink after work," Brad asked.


"Oh boy, you caught me on a bad day."


"O.K. That's too bad. Dinner?" he asked coyly.


I shook my head no and had a big frown on my face. He tried to remain upbeat but walked away a little dejected.


Immediately, my friend Terry from the next cube popped her head up.

"You stupid idiot. How many times have I heard you whine there are no decent guys and here's one asking you out and you don't take the bait. Why did you say no?"


I didn't give Terry an answer but scurried after Brad. "Do you exercise?" I asked.


"Well, sure what did you have in mind?" he replied.


"Do you wanna walk at lunch?" I asked shyly. "How about 12:30?"


"O.K." and he smiled. It was a real, genuine, handsome, knock you off your feet smile.


I didn't know when he would eat but I didn't care. I would be multi-tasking and that was very productive indeed.

An Earth Shattering Experiment

Dear Readers: I am ready to rock your world as I draft a story/screenplay/novel before your eyes. Note: It will be the draft, not the final version. But I think this will get me motivated to get this story down and then I can polish, rearrange, edit after I have say 100 plus pages. What da ya think? Are you game for the ride? As you may know, I have been laid off and literally have three months before school gets out. There is no time like the present to write the rough draft for my award winning story/screenplay/novel. And don't worry I will still have Unrelated Thoughts at the end of the regular postings (I hesitate to write daily - but will try for weekday daily additions).

WORKING TITLE - Decision Points (but that is the title of George W.'s new book . . .)

My horoscope said that I was listening to my body more. Well good. After getting laid off for the second time in two years and consuming copious quantities of chocolate raisins and pretzels – I needed a little positive reinforcement. It was time for a change. In fact, I had no option but to change – change had been forced upon me. “You don’t have a seat at the table. The music has stopped and you don’t have a chair.” This is how my boss told me I was being let go. “No promises were made,” he explained and they weren’t. But still, what to do now?

For the first couple of days, I wandered around the house cleaning out cupboards, closets, and sorting through clothing to donate to some worthy cause. Aimless is a good word for me. I needed a purpose. I needed something to do. I needed to see Pam. An angel on this earth and source of much needed no nonsense wisdom.

We set the date for a pow wow in her kitchen with a bottle of good red wine.

Scene I – Pam’s Kitchen

“Pam I’ve had it. I have no job. No man. No life. I can’t seem to make decisions that are good for me.”

“I don’t think that’s true. You have a lot going for you. You have a Masters degree. You aren’t bad looking – I am not hitting on you, by the way. You have skills.”

“What fucking skills. I am generalist, who needs more confidence and could be a lot more outgoing. It just seems like I am picking the wrong jobs, men, everything. How do I know I am making the right decision next time. For example, should I apply for this job here (points to paper). Who knows I could be very good at administering a housing program.”

“Let’s see. You could flip a coin. Flip to a page in the bible for guidance. Look at your horoscope. Look at Chinese fortunes. How often do you take out Chinese food?” (Alex not paying attention – drifing off)

“Pam remember that Jerry Seinfeld episode when George decided to do the exact opposite of what he thought he should do.”

“No.”

“No? Well I can’t remember the exact examples but say George thought he should say something in a job interview, he would say the exact opposite and would get the job. I had a similar type of brainstorming idea today. If my instincts are so wrong, why not just do the opposite? But then I thought that only gives me two options. I just felt kind of lost today and I am not sure what I want to do. I’m just frustrated because I can’t seem to achieve my goals.”

“A new philosophy never hurt anyone. Why not just do nothing for a while and assume you will figure it out? What are your goals by the way? And what do you want to do?”

“That’s the point exactly. I don’t know what I want to do. So I’ve decided to give up my goals and self-help books and do something akin to George Costanza – go with the flow but when I have to make a decision about something, I am going to rely on my daily horoscope.

“So you have gone completely mad.”

“I don’t know. Today for instance my horoscope said I have good timing. So if I need to make a decision today, I will do so confidently with the knowledge that I have good timing. “

“You sure seem excited about this. I hope it works for you. But what about plain, simple common sense?”

“Oh, that’s what I have been doing. And it’s no fun. Common sense is overrated. Look what happened with Kevin. I prayed and prayed and it fell apart. Mrs. Chapman, my favorite neighbor, told me to follow my heart and I’ve had my heart broken ever since.”

“Alex, remember Kevin already had a girlfriend and you pursued it anyway? Remember I said, ‘I don’t know why you are doing this.’”

“But he asked me to marry him . . . .”

They both grab for the wine and fill up their glasses reminiscing about old times and old boyfriends.


Unrelated thoughts

• The laughter never ends. Daniel has asked me to spell 'up' and 'ip' in the last few days.
• Daniel had a friend over and dug through the woodpile to show him logs that looked like a hambone and a chicken leg.
• Doug told me to fill up my time with things I want to do. Otherwise it will get filled up with stuff I don't want to do.