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