My former boss called me a stubborn ass as I lay on the floor, struggling to breathe. I wheezed out a laugh. If he only knew the half of it.
I am stubborn beyond reason. Faced with arguments and facts to the contrary, I charge fearlessly into whatever situation, holding firmly to the belief that I know best.
I always thought of myself as a very forgiving person. I don't hold grudges. Or, rather, I thought I didn't.
I came to the realization that the reason that I forgive so easily is that I do not usually blame others for my pain, but I blame myself. It is not their fault, it's mine. I trusted them too soon or too much. I depended on them unfairly. Etc. It is easy for me to forgive them because, in my mind, there is nothing to forgive them for.
But when a situation comes up that I wholly and firmly believe was the other person's fault... well, it takes a lot for me to forgive them.
I am a stubborn ass.
It takes a tragedy to make me realize how blessed I am.
It makes me realize that the grudge I was holding - the anger I was feeling - was not as important as I had led myself to believe.
Love and friendship... well, they're more important. But this still didn't give me the answer I needed. The answer to how I can forgive. How do you un-break your heart?
I learned this lesson from a very wise woman:
Your heart cannot forgive.
That's why He gave you His.
When the heart beating in you is Christ's, you can forgive in a heartbeat.
When I came down the stairs this morning to a newspaper with the pictures of twenty sweet children, smiling and full of joy, the anger and pride gave way to tears. There are twenty-six families who will be heart-broken this Christmas. Who will not be able to tell someone how much they are loved.
And the fact that I am still able to do so is something that I cannot ignore. It is a fact that demands attention. And action.
Do not let pride, anger, and resentment hold you back from those whom God has given to you to be loved.
17 December 2012
16 December 2012
A Gentleman and a Scholar
I have the best guy friends IN THE WORLD.
Dan proved this rather emphatically this week.
As you all know, I was let go from my job on Tuesday after my Monday adventure to the ER. To add to the sadness, our company party was scheduled for last night. I was super excited. I had a pretty dress picked out, there was going to be dancing, and Dan had agreed to come with me as my "date." So when they ended my assignment, my Saturday plans went down the drain as well.
Until, that is, Dan stepped up to the man-plate and treated me like a princess. He picked me up, took me out to dinner (at The Field downtown), and then, as the surprise, we attending the Mission concert.
I had so much fun and felt so very loved.
To top off the excellence of the evening, another good friend (Jeff) was singing in the concert so we got to see him afterwards. I managed to snag a picture with the two of them.
Aren't they handsome? :) I am such a lucky girl to have such kind, wonderful, and handsome fellows in my life.
Dan proved this rather emphatically this week.
As you all know, I was let go from my job on Tuesday after my Monday adventure to the ER. To add to the sadness, our company party was scheduled for last night. I was super excited. I had a pretty dress picked out, there was going to be dancing, and Dan had agreed to come with me as my "date." So when they ended my assignment, my Saturday plans went down the drain as well.
Until, that is, Dan stepped up to the man-plate and treated me like a princess. He picked me up, took me out to dinner (at The Field downtown), and then, as the surprise, we attending the Mission concert.
I had so much fun and felt so very loved.
To top off the excellence of the evening, another good friend (Jeff) was singing in the concert so we got to see him afterwards. I managed to snag a picture with the two of them.
Aren't they handsome? :) I am such a lucky girl to have such kind, wonderful, and handsome fellows in my life.
15 December 2012
'Tis Better to Have Loved and Lost
We are faced with tragedy. We don't understand. We cannot understand.
We can do a couple of things. We can pray, mourn, and hope. Or we can blame.
Blame can feel good. To point a finger at everyone and everything with any connection to the event. Within hours of the tragedy, my twitter feed was full of people sending petitions to Obama for more gun control, petitioning for armed guards at every school, and calling for a stricter policy regarding those people with mental illness.
It takes an out of control situation and puts it back into a controlled box.
When faced with chaos and confusion, we desperately try to find solutions. This is part of our nature as rational beings. And like all of the varied aspects of our rationality, it can be used well. It can also be used poorly.
What happened yesterday was an unmitigated, undeniable, unimaginable tragedy. So many hearts were broken. Shattered. Lives were changed forever.
We cannot understand.
We cannot understand why God lets these things happen.
In our desperation, we blame.
But blame is just words. Ugly, sometimes hateful, words.
Prayer, mourning, and hope... those look toward healing and eternal beauty.
Our faith that God has let these things happen for reasons beyond our understanding... that is what makes this bearable. Hear me out.
If there were no God, these things would be simply tragic. There would be no reason, unknown or known. This would be all there was. There would be no answer to the question, in Heaven or on earth. If humanity were the whole story, there would be no hope for good coming from evil.
With a beneficent, albeit mysterious God, we can hope that there is a reason. God is not pleased when humanity acts in such evil ways. But He alone can bring good out of such things.
That line from Tennyson keeps coming to mind:
Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
This statement seems straightforward enough when all you have known is love. In the joy and happiness of love, it seems obvious that loss - that impossible, far-off, hypothetical state - would be made bearable by the past love.
When you lose, though... things change. In our smallness and weakness, we might wish that that person had never entered our lives. Whether taken by death or by estrangement, separation from someone who was part of your heart is unbearably painful.
And there is that fact: the greater the love, the greater the loss.
With God, though, that loss is not permanent. Love can remain through loss because there is something beyond loss.
We have to believe - we have to hope - that God has taken His precious children to His heart and will hold them close.
That is what will get us through this.
My thoughts and prayers are with all of those affected - directly and indirectly - by yesterday's tragedy.
Pray. Mourn. But Hope.
Because Love Himself has conquered death.
We can do a couple of things. We can pray, mourn, and hope. Or we can blame.
Blame can feel good. To point a finger at everyone and everything with any connection to the event. Within hours of the tragedy, my twitter feed was full of people sending petitions to Obama for more gun control, petitioning for armed guards at every school, and calling for a stricter policy regarding those people with mental illness.
It takes an out of control situation and puts it back into a controlled box.
When faced with chaos and confusion, we desperately try to find solutions. This is part of our nature as rational beings. And like all of the varied aspects of our rationality, it can be used well. It can also be used poorly.
What happened yesterday was an unmitigated, undeniable, unimaginable tragedy. So many hearts were broken. Shattered. Lives were changed forever.
We cannot understand.
We cannot understand why God lets these things happen.
In our desperation, we blame.
But blame is just words. Ugly, sometimes hateful, words.
Prayer, mourning, and hope... those look toward healing and eternal beauty.
Our faith that God has let these things happen for reasons beyond our understanding... that is what makes this bearable. Hear me out.
If there were no God, these things would be simply tragic. There would be no reason, unknown or known. This would be all there was. There would be no answer to the question, in Heaven or on earth. If humanity were the whole story, there would be no hope for good coming from evil.
With a beneficent, albeit mysterious God, we can hope that there is a reason. God is not pleased when humanity acts in such evil ways. But He alone can bring good out of such things.
That line from Tennyson keeps coming to mind:
Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
This statement seems straightforward enough when all you have known is love. In the joy and happiness of love, it seems obvious that loss - that impossible, far-off, hypothetical state - would be made bearable by the past love.
When you lose, though... things change. In our smallness and weakness, we might wish that that person had never entered our lives. Whether taken by death or by estrangement, separation from someone who was part of your heart is unbearably painful.
And there is that fact: the greater the love, the greater the loss.
With God, though, that loss is not permanent. Love can remain through loss because there is something beyond loss.
We have to believe - we have to hope - that God has taken His precious children to His heart and will hold them close.
That is what will get us through this.
My thoughts and prayers are with all of those affected - directly and indirectly - by yesterday's tragedy.
Pray. Mourn. But Hope.
Because Love Himself has conquered death.
12 December 2012
Yamaclaus for Chrismukkah
My Jewish uncle calls all of us Catholics "Super-Jews" since we have all of the Old Testament in addition to the New Testament. Y'know, the whole fulfillment of the scriptures thing.
On the television show "The OC," they celebrate the "super-holiday" of Chrismukkah. Jesus and Moses were having lunch one day, apparently, and decided to combine their powers to create a celebration that would have twice the resistance of any normal holiday to the Scrooges of the world.
Since we watched "The OC" (yes, yes, I know...) and we're super-Jews, we felt entitled to have our own bit of Chrismukkah fun. Inspired by the show, I made yamaclaus.
These little felt and fluff hats are super easy to make, although the fluff gets all over your kitchen table, floor, and black sweat pants. Oops.
First, you cut a circle of felt. I used a cereal bowl, decided it was too big, and used a slightly smaller mixing bowl. Hence the circle of felt in the picture below.
Then you cut a radial slit (from the center to the circumference).
You overlap those two sides until you get the desired "peak" of the hat. You can glue it together, or you can run a quick stitch through it on your machine. I think the latter is easier, but if you can't sew, you should probably take your chances with the hot glue.
It's really convenient if you happen to be in a wedding where the dresses are the appropriate red-ish color and the shoulder pads are round and the perfect size.
Then you have a nice, long bonding session with the hot glue gun. Yay.
I put the little fluff balls on top first and then put the fluff around the edges.
You have to kind of mess with the edging since it's straight and your hat is curved... it can't be perfect, given the laws of space and matter, but it'll be close enough.
Ta da!! Yamaclaus!!
On the television show "The OC," they celebrate the "super-holiday" of Chrismukkah. Jesus and Moses were having lunch one day, apparently, and decided to combine their powers to create a celebration that would have twice the resistance of any normal holiday to the Scrooges of the world.
Since we watched "The OC" (yes, yes, I know...) and we're super-Jews, we felt entitled to have our own bit of Chrismukkah fun. Inspired by the show, I made yamaclaus.
These little felt and fluff hats are super easy to make, although the fluff gets all over your kitchen table, floor, and black sweat pants. Oops.
First, you cut a circle of felt. I used a cereal bowl, decided it was too big, and used a slightly smaller mixing bowl. Hence the circle of felt in the picture below.
You overlap those two sides until you get the desired "peak" of the hat. You can glue it together, or you can run a quick stitch through it on your machine. I think the latter is easier, but if you can't sew, you should probably take your chances with the hot glue.
Then you have a nice, long bonding session with the hot glue gun. Yay.
I put the little fluff balls on top first and then put the fluff around the edges.
You have to kind of mess with the edging since it's straight and your hat is curved... it can't be perfect, given the laws of space and matter, but it'll be close enough.
Ta da!! Yamaclaus!!
Not my week...
It's been a rough couple of days.
I went to the emergency room in an ambulance for respiratory issues.
Then National Pen decided to end my temp assignment because I'm too much of a liability.
Ooof.
On the bright side:
This gives me more time to look at graduate programs.
I have time off to visit my friends in DC.
Win some, lose some.
Onward and upward, right?
I went to the emergency room in an ambulance for respiratory issues.
Then National Pen decided to end my temp assignment because I'm too much of a liability.
Ooof.
On the bright side:
This gives me more time to look at graduate programs.
I have time off to visit my friends in DC.
Win some, lose some.
Onward and upward, right?
25 November 2012
Calling in the Marines
Yes, you read that title right. Me, my blistered feet, my mother, and my friends had to be rescued from the clutches of the idiotic Siri. No joke. It was humiliating. I blush to think about what happened yesterday. But I'm getting ahead of myself. You haven't heard about it yet. After you hear about what happened, you will be embarrassed for me, too.
The setup: two of my dear friends came down from TAC to share Thanksgiving with my family. It was so much fun. On Thursday we had a big, fun photo shoot while the turkey cooked, we watched movies and had Karen over for leftovers and games on Friday, and for Saturday I had planned a good old touristy day in downtown for the Ohio natives.
As we were driving down the freeway, we passed by MCAS Miramar. I remembered that Liz had mentioned that her brother was a Marine stationed in San Diego. I asked where he was stationed. She said she didn't know. That kind of startled me, but then I guess I've grown up down here and realize the variety of places he could be stationed within the county. Mum offered to bring Liz to see her brother, but she declined the offer, stating that he was up in the desert visiting his brother, sister-in-law, and nephew. She did text him, however, to ask where he was stationed (just to satisfy my curiosity, I think). He texted her back and said he was at MCRD and he was back in town. We were driving down there anyway, so we thought it would be silly not to have Liz meet up with her brother. We arranged to meet for lunch at Liberty Station.
We arrived at our destination somewhat earlier than our appointed lunch time, so we walked around to explore for a while. Chris (Liz's brother) told us to meet him at Tender Greens. Mum wanted to ask directions from the lady in the store that we were in, but being the man I am... I mean, the really stubborn, confident, independent girl that I am... did not want to ask someone for directions. I just searched for Tender Greens near our destination on my iPhone. It pinned it, gave an address, and we started walking. It looked like it was about a mile away, but we had 30 minutes to get there. The sun was out, but there was a beautifully cool breeze coming off the bay. We had a pleasant chat as we walked. We hit the condo part of Liberty Station, fully expecting to come to a more "foodish" area with shops and restaurants and things. We continued to approach the red dot on the map. Then we passed it. We walked back and forth, up and down side streets. There was nothing in sight except condos. Upon close inspection, it appeared as though the restaurant was in someone's backyard.
Uh. Oh.
I was absolutely flummoxed. I guess Siri took "tender greens" to mean garden plants? I have no idea. I called the restaurant, asking for directions. The lady just said to keep walking on the road we were on and we'd find it. So we kept walking... all the way to the edge of Liberty Station. I called again and I got some garbled directions about being across the street from a parking structure (which is not even in Liberty Station) and next to a Postal Annex (great landmark, right?) and behind (yes, behind, as in where it cannot be seen) the Vons. Great.
So we turned around and started walking the other way. I was very embarrassed. Siri had disappointed me. Made me walk miles in the wrong direction. That is the last time I trust that mean, nasty lady.
All this time, Liz had been texting her brother, giving him updates on our progress. When she told him where we were he responded with a "LOL, that's far." Way to make me feel better. I was so, so, so embarrassed. I am the sense-of-direction, get-us-where-we-need-to-go member of my family. I failed.
So I gave up. I sat on the corner and Liz called in the Marines. Technically, one Marine. Chris came and rescued us in his car and drove us to the restaurant, which was on a completely different street than the one the lady told us to walk along. And here's the kicker:
It was fifty feet from where we had started.
No joke. Right down the corridor hung a sign "Tender Greens."
I led a two mile excursion in the absolutely wrong direction, just trying to get almost exactly where we had started.
Oh.
My.
Goodness.
I went from failure to EPIC failure.
The girls weren't mad, and Mum and Chris thought it was hilarious. We had a delicious lunch and enjoyed a fabulous conversation. We sat and talked for a solid three hours. By the time we left the restaurant, got in the car, and made it to Cabrillo, it was all fogged in. Not exactly the view I was trying to show the girls, but it was still pretty and they seemed to enjoy it :)
On a lighter note, here's some of the pictures from our photo adventure :)
Hope your Thanksgiving was just as fun and less embarrassing than mine! :)
The setup: two of my dear friends came down from TAC to share Thanksgiving with my family. It was so much fun. On Thursday we had a big, fun photo shoot while the turkey cooked, we watched movies and had Karen over for leftovers and games on Friday, and for Saturday I had planned a good old touristy day in downtown for the Ohio natives.
As we were driving down the freeway, we passed by MCAS Miramar. I remembered that Liz had mentioned that her brother was a Marine stationed in San Diego. I asked where he was stationed. She said she didn't know. That kind of startled me, but then I guess I've grown up down here and realize the variety of places he could be stationed within the county. Mum offered to bring Liz to see her brother, but she declined the offer, stating that he was up in the desert visiting his brother, sister-in-law, and nephew. She did text him, however, to ask where he was stationed (just to satisfy my curiosity, I think). He texted her back and said he was at MCRD and he was back in town. We were driving down there anyway, so we thought it would be silly not to have Liz meet up with her brother. We arranged to meet for lunch at Liberty Station.
We arrived at our destination somewhat earlier than our appointed lunch time, so we walked around to explore for a while. Chris (Liz's brother) told us to meet him at Tender Greens. Mum wanted to ask directions from the lady in the store that we were in, but being the man I am... I mean, the really stubborn, confident, independent girl that I am... did not want to ask someone for directions. I just searched for Tender Greens near our destination on my iPhone. It pinned it, gave an address, and we started walking. It looked like it was about a mile away, but we had 30 minutes to get there. The sun was out, but there was a beautifully cool breeze coming off the bay. We had a pleasant chat as we walked. We hit the condo part of Liberty Station, fully expecting to come to a more "foodish" area with shops and restaurants and things. We continued to approach the red dot on the map. Then we passed it. We walked back and forth, up and down side streets. There was nothing in sight except condos. Upon close inspection, it appeared as though the restaurant was in someone's backyard.
Uh. Oh.
I was absolutely flummoxed. I guess Siri took "tender greens" to mean garden plants? I have no idea. I called the restaurant, asking for directions. The lady just said to keep walking on the road we were on and we'd find it. So we kept walking... all the way to the edge of Liberty Station. I called again and I got some garbled directions about being across the street from a parking structure (which is not even in Liberty Station) and next to a Postal Annex (great landmark, right?) and behind (yes, behind, as in where it cannot be seen) the Vons. Great.
So we turned around and started walking the other way. I was very embarrassed. Siri had disappointed me. Made me walk miles in the wrong direction. That is the last time I trust that mean, nasty lady.
All this time, Liz had been texting her brother, giving him updates on our progress. When she told him where we were he responded with a "LOL, that's far." Way to make me feel better. I was so, so, so embarrassed. I am the sense-of-direction, get-us-where-we-need-to-go member of my family. I failed.
So I gave up. I sat on the corner and Liz called in the Marines. Technically, one Marine. Chris came and rescued us in his car and drove us to the restaurant, which was on a completely different street than the one the lady told us to walk along. And here's the kicker:
It was fifty feet from where we had started.
No joke. Right down the corridor hung a sign "Tender Greens."
I led a two mile excursion in the absolutely wrong direction, just trying to get almost exactly where we had started.
Oh.
My.
Goodness.
I went from failure to EPIC failure.
The girls weren't mad, and Mum and Chris thought it was hilarious. We had a delicious lunch and enjoyed a fabulous conversation. We sat and talked for a solid three hours. By the time we left the restaurant, got in the car, and made it to Cabrillo, it was all fogged in. Not exactly the view I was trying to show the girls, but it was still pretty and they seemed to enjoy it :)
On a lighter note, here's some of the pictures from our photo adventure :)
19 November 2012
No Rest for the Weary
I went back to work today. It's like chaos incarnate in that building. Ok, maybe just the financial part of the building. Quite the welcome back for this little missy. "Hit the ground running" would be an understatement.
Unbeknownst to me (and about 90% of the other employees), our company was sold. That sale is finalized TOMORROW. Yeah, tomorrow. If you have even a smattering of an idea of what goes into a business sale, you realize the enormity of this situation.
From a financial perspective, this event is treated like the "end of fiscal year." To give you an idea of the importance and stress involved with that event, let's compare it to the "end of fiscal month" that comes around on the last Friday of every month.
It's like the end of the world.
And I'm not even joking.
Basically, millions and millions of dollars have to be analyzed, balanced, unapplied, overapplied, reapplied, adjusted, and tweaked into perfection. They should thank their lucky stars that, in spite of the fact that one fourth of their accounts receivable department (read: me) has never taken any accounting classes, she happens to already be adept at math and (solely by the grace of God) a fast learner.
So this is always a stressful event. In this particular case, we have a few added elements to add even more adventure to the scenario.
1) It's busy season. We are processing thousands of payments a day, with hundreds upon hundreds of those requiring manual entry. EVERY DAY.
2) Tomorrow is Tuesday. The amount of payments processed on Tuesday is double (on average) what is processed any other day. It usually has to be carried over to Wednesday. This is not an option tomorrow, since we have to "close out" at 4 pm. We had to start Tuesday's batch today, which isn't easy when you don't have customer or account numbers: all we have are scans of the checks until the real data arrives in the mail tomorrow. What this means (for those of you who don't know anything about accounts receivable) is that we have to search for each and every customer or account in our slow-as-a-snail, horribly antiquated, out-dated database. My average rate for posting payments is between 60 and 100 checks an hour. When we have to do it the hard way, I get (at most) 30 done an hour.
3) The Credit and Collections manager - my boss - is gone all week. He is the one sane person in management. And probably one of a dozen (and that's a generous estimate) sane people in the building.
Fun stuff, eh? ;)
Unbeknownst to me (and about 90% of the other employees), our company was sold. That sale is finalized TOMORROW. Yeah, tomorrow. If you have even a smattering of an idea of what goes into a business sale, you realize the enormity of this situation.
From a financial perspective, this event is treated like the "end of fiscal year." To give you an idea of the importance and stress involved with that event, let's compare it to the "end of fiscal month" that comes around on the last Friday of every month.
It's like the end of the world.
And I'm not even joking.
Basically, millions and millions of dollars have to be analyzed, balanced, unapplied, overapplied, reapplied, adjusted, and tweaked into perfection. They should thank their lucky stars that, in spite of the fact that one fourth of their accounts receivable department (read: me) has never taken any accounting classes, she happens to already be adept at math and (solely by the grace of God) a fast learner.
So this is always a stressful event. In this particular case, we have a few added elements to add even more adventure to the scenario.
1) It's busy season. We are processing thousands of payments a day, with hundreds upon hundreds of those requiring manual entry. EVERY DAY.
2) Tomorrow is Tuesday. The amount of payments processed on Tuesday is double (on average) what is processed any other day. It usually has to be carried over to Wednesday. This is not an option tomorrow, since we have to "close out" at 4 pm. We had to start Tuesday's batch today, which isn't easy when you don't have customer or account numbers: all we have are scans of the checks until the real data arrives in the mail tomorrow. What this means (for those of you who don't know anything about accounts receivable) is that we have to search for each and every customer or account in our slow-as-a-snail, horribly antiquated, out-dated database. My average rate for posting payments is between 60 and 100 checks an hour. When we have to do it the hard way, I get (at most) 30 done an hour.
3) The Credit and Collections manager - my boss - is gone all week. He is the one sane person in management. And probably one of a dozen (and that's a generous estimate) sane people in the building.
Fun stuff, eh? ;)
18 November 2012
The Road to Christmas is Paved With Thanksgiving Intentions
I was a prisoner in my own home this week. I couldn't go in to work since they sprayed our office with some chemical that gave me a horrible, miserable asthma attack. I felt rather ill for the first couple of days, but I began to perk up a bit by the latter half. I dragged asked my gracious mother to bring me to her personal purgatory the craft store to get Thanksgiving decorations.
I was thwarted in my endeavors, however. Thanksgiving seems to be over in the world. Everything is green, red, gold, silver... in a word, Christmasy.
So, Christmas it is. I dove in with a great deal of zeal. I may have overestimated how healthy I was... I definitely crashed at the end of Thursday and Friday. But our house has many sparkly, bright, Christmasy things around it.
Enjoy some glimpses of our house in its festive garb.
I was thwarted in my endeavors, however. Thanksgiving seems to be over in the world. Everything is green, red, gold, silver... in a word, Christmasy.
So, Christmas it is. I dove in with a great deal of zeal. I may have overestimated how healthy I was... I definitely crashed at the end of Thursday and Friday. But our house has many sparkly, bright, Christmasy things around it.
Enjoy some glimpses of our house in its festive garb.
I wrapped all of our wall art in Christmas paper. Yes, all of it.
I made the pointsettia curtain a few years ago and it has become an annual staple.
This combination was my mama's idea. And I love it.
This garland was super fun to make. Although I would advise against buying glittery snow flakes at the dollar store. I was concerned that there wouldn't be any glitter left on them by the time I was done with the assembly.
My sister super-glued the ribbon bows to the thumbtacks because, as she said, she isn't in danger of gluing herself to anything. haha!
The wrapping paper is literally everywhere...
A holiday bouquet.
Now we just need an actual Christmas candle to put in the middle
Another bouqet of shiny sparklies.
Look what we have here!
And no, not even my brother's sword escaped a bit of festive cheer. :)
14 November 2012
3 Siblings
We've grown out of the fighting... but not out of the sillies.
I love this layout... hope you do too. :)
09 November 2012
My bud, the CFO
I work in a multi-million dollar industry: promotional products. The corporation I work for pretty much has the monopoly on that multi-million dollar industry. Within the one corporation are several companies, each of which caters to different types of businesses (for example, one of them works with Disney, another works with elementary schools). One huge corporation that is comprised of four big companies. We have facilities in Tijuana, Tennessee, India, Michigan, Ireland, and San Diego. I work in the corporate office with about 150 other people, including the CEO, the CFO, and the CIO.
I am accident prone. My body... breaks. All of the time. Joints do not stay in socket for more than a few hours at a time. This is simply a fact of my existence. Yes, it does hurt. Not as much as it would hurt you, so stop squirming. My joints are loose, so dislocations are not as violent to my connective tissue and muscles as they would be to yours.
When you combine the important people, my medical problems, and top it off with my luck, bad things happen. Sigh.
The CFO is a particularly uptight individual. And that's a generous description. He is the CFO of a multi-million dollar corporation. He is paid to be uptight. And every time he walks by the cubicle of a certain minion, she's on the floor. Oh yeah. That minion is me. He walks by every day. Every day I'm having some sort of problem. It varies: some days I'm simply popping a hip back into socket, some days I'm stuck on the floor because I threw out my back. But every day, he is the one to find me.
Now, he might not care if I were a minion in customer service or marketing. But I'm in accounting. I personally handle thousands of dollars every week. And I technically fall under (way, way, way, way down at the very bottom of a pretty long chain of people) his jurisdiction.
Today was no exception. My ankle bone was sticking out of the side of my foot. It hurts to walk on that. So I was crawling back to my desk from the sink (where I had been dutifully washing out my coffee cup). The CFO magically appears out of nowhere and starts flipping out. He frantically asks me if I need him to call someone or carry me somewhere. I keep repeating that it's only another ten feet to my desk and I'm fine. I just need to get back there to pop my ankle bone back into place. He wasn't listening though. He ran off to get the HR lady and to call 911. Yes, I'm serious. 911. I don't do 911. Don't get me wrong, I'd use them if I thought I'd need them. But I don't. This is normal.
Thankfully, my boss came to my rescue. He quietly appeared around the corner with a wheeled office chair. He just pointed at me, pointed at the chair, and raised his eyebrows in a way that brooked no argument. I mouthed thank you (the CFO was within earshot), pulled myself into the chair, and he wheeled me back to my desk. "You'd better go calm the CFO down now, " I said. "Yeah, I'm on it." and off he ran to intercept the panicking man and prevent him from calling the paramedics.
Just another day in my life.
I am accident prone. My body... breaks. All of the time. Joints do not stay in socket for more than a few hours at a time. This is simply a fact of my existence. Yes, it does hurt. Not as much as it would hurt you, so stop squirming. My joints are loose, so dislocations are not as violent to my connective tissue and muscles as they would be to yours.
When you combine the important people, my medical problems, and top it off with my luck, bad things happen. Sigh.
The CFO is a particularly uptight individual. And that's a generous description. He is the CFO of a multi-million dollar corporation. He is paid to be uptight. And every time he walks by the cubicle of a certain minion, she's on the floor. Oh yeah. That minion is me. He walks by every day. Every day I'm having some sort of problem. It varies: some days I'm simply popping a hip back into socket, some days I'm stuck on the floor because I threw out my back. But every day, he is the one to find me.
Now, he might not care if I were a minion in customer service or marketing. But I'm in accounting. I personally handle thousands of dollars every week. And I technically fall under (way, way, way, way down at the very bottom of a pretty long chain of people) his jurisdiction.
Today was no exception. My ankle bone was sticking out of the side of my foot. It hurts to walk on that. So I was crawling back to my desk from the sink (where I had been dutifully washing out my coffee cup). The CFO magically appears out of nowhere and starts flipping out. He frantically asks me if I need him to call someone or carry me somewhere. I keep repeating that it's only another ten feet to my desk and I'm fine. I just need to get back there to pop my ankle bone back into place. He wasn't listening though. He ran off to get the HR lady and to call 911. Yes, I'm serious. 911. I don't do 911. Don't get me wrong, I'd use them if I thought I'd need them. But I don't. This is normal.
Thankfully, my boss came to my rescue. He quietly appeared around the corner with a wheeled office chair. He just pointed at me, pointed at the chair, and raised his eyebrows in a way that brooked no argument. I mouthed thank you (the CFO was within earshot), pulled myself into the chair, and he wheeled me back to my desk. "You'd better go calm the CFO down now, " I said. "Yeah, I'm on it." and off he ran to intercept the panicking man and prevent him from calling the paramedics.
Just another day in my life.
04 November 2012
5 Facts About Being the Child with Allergies
(Earlier today I read an article called "5 Facts about Raising a Child with Celiac Disease." Or something like that. This is my version. I figured I'm entitled since I actually have the food allergies and my perspective might be helpful.)
1. Eating is really boring.
Really, really boring. If I could get away with not eating, I would. I've actually tried it on occasion. It usually ends badly (since I'm hypoglycemic... and human), but it doesn't really stop me from trying. When something that should be pleasurable requires quite a bit of effort, it severely cuts down on the attractiveness of the activity.
(I realize that sentence could be interpreted as kind of scandalous out of context, so please don't quote it out of context. Unless you want to make people laugh and make me turn red. Which is your prerogative, I suppose.)
2. It doesn't mitigate fussiness.
We didn't discover my dairy intolerance until I was about ten and I didn't become soy intolerant until I was in my mid-teens. With these discoveries came a lot of adjustments to my diet. Unfortunately, ever since I was a wee one, I have been a famously picky eater. For some reason, though, many people assume that since I am so limited in menu, I'll gratefully eat anything they put in front of me. I might, out of politeness, but I don't usually like it. I like plain, simple food. I like it to be tasty, but tasty does not mean adventurous. I am not an adventurous eater. So for future reference, don't assume that the people that you know who have food allergies aren't picky eaters. We're still human with individual likes and dislikes. Just saying.
3. It's less scary for me than it is for you.
I know, I know, this one sounds kind of backwards, but it's true. It's a lot less scary to be the one with the allergies than the one watching an allergic reaction. Don't ask me why. Maybe because there's more of a sense of helplessness when you're watching someone suffer, maybe because it's less unpredictable or unusual from our end. I'm always reassuring people: this is normal for me. It is. I pass out. I get up. I move on. I don't like throwing up. I don't like having splitting headaches and dizziness. But I know it will pass, that I'll (most likely) live through it, etc.
4. STOP FREAKING OUT.
So I know it's hard, but please STOP freaking out. When you freak out, I feel like I have to take care of you. From the floor. It's difficult. Help if you know how, but if you don't know how, don't ask me how you can help. I'm not in the mood. If you really want to know, ask for some instructions when I'm not having a reaction. Then I'm happy to inform you.
5. Don't harp on the subject.
We know we have allergies. I understand that with little kids, they don't understand the connection between certain foods and getting sick. They may not think through the consequences. That Reese's Peanut Butter Cup looks reeeeaallyyyy good. So I understand some hyper-vigilance in that situation. But by the time we're a older, we are more acutely aware of our allergies than you could ever, ever, ever be. I'm serious. I check and double check labels. I'll won't eat something if it doesn't have a label that I can check or I didn't watch the person make it (because most people don't think of using Pam as a problem or something to list among the ingredients when I ask). I bring PB&J when I go to a party. I know how to take care of myself (and I'm getting better about actually doing so). But we don't want to be reminded all of the time that we're different. WE know we're different. And it's hard being the kid who can't do everything. Who can't eat at the party. Who can't just eat like a normal person. Sure, we get used to it. But some days it isn't easy. And when, on those days, we're repeatedly reminded of our problem and how we can't eat something, we do the typically human thing. Think Adam and Eve. "Don't touch" is like a challenge to touch it.
I realize that these have varying degrees of seriousness, but life has varying degrees of seriousness. And while allergies and intolerances are serious things, it's good to learn how to have a sense of humor about it. Because we're human too.
1. Eating is really boring.
Really, really boring. If I could get away with not eating, I would. I've actually tried it on occasion. It usually ends badly (since I'm hypoglycemic... and human), but it doesn't really stop me from trying. When something that should be pleasurable requires quite a bit of effort, it severely cuts down on the attractiveness of the activity.
(I realize that sentence could be interpreted as kind of scandalous out of context, so please don't quote it out of context. Unless you want to make people laugh and make me turn red. Which is your prerogative, I suppose.)
2. It doesn't mitigate fussiness.
We didn't discover my dairy intolerance until I was about ten and I didn't become soy intolerant until I was in my mid-teens. With these discoveries came a lot of adjustments to my diet. Unfortunately, ever since I was a wee one, I have been a famously picky eater. For some reason, though, many people assume that since I am so limited in menu, I'll gratefully eat anything they put in front of me. I might, out of politeness, but I don't usually like it. I like plain, simple food. I like it to be tasty, but tasty does not mean adventurous. I am not an adventurous eater. So for future reference, don't assume that the people that you know who have food allergies aren't picky eaters. We're still human with individual likes and dislikes. Just saying.
3. It's less scary for me than it is for you.
I know, I know, this one sounds kind of backwards, but it's true. It's a lot less scary to be the one with the allergies than the one watching an allergic reaction. Don't ask me why. Maybe because there's more of a sense of helplessness when you're watching someone suffer, maybe because it's less unpredictable or unusual from our end. I'm always reassuring people: this is normal for me. It is. I pass out. I get up. I move on. I don't like throwing up. I don't like having splitting headaches and dizziness. But I know it will pass, that I'll (most likely) live through it, etc.
4. STOP FREAKING OUT.
So I know it's hard, but please STOP freaking out. When you freak out, I feel like I have to take care of you. From the floor. It's difficult. Help if you know how, but if you don't know how, don't ask me how you can help. I'm not in the mood. If you really want to know, ask for some instructions when I'm not having a reaction. Then I'm happy to inform you.
5. Don't harp on the subject.
We know we have allergies. I understand that with little kids, they don't understand the connection between certain foods and getting sick. They may not think through the consequences. That Reese's Peanut Butter Cup looks reeeeaallyyyy good. So I understand some hyper-vigilance in that situation. But by the time we're a older, we are more acutely aware of our allergies than you could ever, ever, ever be. I'm serious. I check and double check labels. I'll won't eat something if it doesn't have a label that I can check or I didn't watch the person make it (because most people don't think of using Pam as a problem or something to list among the ingredients when I ask). I bring PB&J when I go to a party. I know how to take care of myself (and I'm getting better about actually doing so). But we don't want to be reminded all of the time that we're different. WE know we're different. And it's hard being the kid who can't do everything. Who can't eat at the party. Who can't just eat like a normal person. Sure, we get used to it. But some days it isn't easy. And when, on those days, we're repeatedly reminded of our problem and how we can't eat something, we do the typically human thing. Think Adam and Eve. "Don't touch" is like a challenge to touch it.
I realize that these have varying degrees of seriousness, but life has varying degrees of seriousness. And while allergies and intolerances are serious things, it's good to learn how to have a sense of humor about it. Because we're human too.
03 November 2012
Breakfast Dessert and Other Shenanigans
Last night, two of the awesomest people ever came over for dinner. Of course, when you have awesome people over, awesome things happen. Awfully funny awesome things. For example:
This one needs a little background: Dan (awesome person number two) insisted that he bring something over with him. I challenged him to make a "Bridget-proof" dessert. When discussing options, he asked if I was allergic to goats' milk products. On receiving a negative, he expressed relief because he wanted to bring goat milk yogurt. I raised a quizzical eyebrow or two, but I, being a gracious hostess, didn't actually vocalize the concern.
At least, I didn't tell him. I did call Karen last night (awesome person number one) and ask her if I should surreptitiously bake brownies because Dan was bringing breakfast for dessert. She said no; she thought it would be ok. If he was still hungry, he could eat when he got home. Kinda a strange answer, but I let it go.
When Dan got to our house, he asked for a pot so he could start our "breakfast dessert." Incredulous, I looked at Karen. "You told him??" She conceded that she had and I turned a bright color. He is never, ever, ever going to let me live this down. Especially since we weren't having yogurt for dessert. We were having some fancy dessert that consisted of apples boiled in wine with cinnamon and sugar and stuff of that sort, garnished with the plain yogurt and the wine boiled down into a syrup. He did graciously leave the left over goat yogurt for our consumption. It made a tasty breakfast.
The second event worthy of mention is that our family failed to live up to Italian standards: we had no garlic in the house. Ok, maybe not strictly true. We had a quarter of a teaspoon of garlic powder. That's it. The spaghetti was... not garlicy. I may or may not have panicked. Dan may or may not have tried to put a chili in it. And pepper. He's clearly not Italian.What was probably the funniest part of the whole thing was that I called my sister, hoping that she could pick up garlic powder before she got home from Mass. I didn't quite succeed. We had a phone conversation while she was in our garage. Ha! But no garlic powder. Which merited a cheeky comment from one of our guests that was to the effect of, "It needs garlic."
The third thing was not really something I can explain. It was just hysterical to watch. Karen, Andrea, and Dan were all involved in the vegetable cooking. There was a great flurry of pot holders, spoons, spices, etc. The oven was opened and closed, shelves were repositioned, and there was just general chaos. It was quite the project. And it left me laughing hysterically.
This one needs a little background: Dan (awesome person number two) insisted that he bring something over with him. I challenged him to make a "Bridget-proof" dessert. When discussing options, he asked if I was allergic to goats' milk products. On receiving a negative, he expressed relief because he wanted to bring goat milk yogurt. I raised a quizzical eyebrow or two, but I, being a gracious hostess, didn't actually vocalize the concern.
At least, I didn't tell him. I did call Karen last night (awesome person number one) and ask her if I should surreptitiously bake brownies because Dan was bringing breakfast for dessert. She said no; she thought it would be ok. If he was still hungry, he could eat when he got home. Kinda a strange answer, but I let it go.
When Dan got to our house, he asked for a pot so he could start our "breakfast dessert." Incredulous, I looked at Karen. "You told him??" She conceded that she had and I turned a bright color. He is never, ever, ever going to let me live this down. Especially since we weren't having yogurt for dessert. We were having some fancy dessert that consisted of apples boiled in wine with cinnamon and sugar and stuff of that sort, garnished with the plain yogurt and the wine boiled down into a syrup. He did graciously leave the left over goat yogurt for our consumption. It made a tasty breakfast.
The second event worthy of mention is that our family failed to live up to Italian standards: we had no garlic in the house. Ok, maybe not strictly true. We had a quarter of a teaspoon of garlic powder. That's it. The spaghetti was... not garlicy. I may or may not have panicked. Dan may or may not have tried to put a chili in it. And pepper. He's clearly not Italian.What was probably the funniest part of the whole thing was that I called my sister, hoping that she could pick up garlic powder before she got home from Mass. I didn't quite succeed. We had a phone conversation while she was in our garage. Ha! But no garlic powder. Which merited a cheeky comment from one of our guests that was to the effect of, "It needs garlic."
The third thing was not really something I can explain. It was just hysterical to watch. Karen, Andrea, and Dan were all involved in the vegetable cooking. There was a great flurry of pot holders, spoons, spices, etc. The oven was opened and closed, shelves were repositioned, and there was just general chaos. It was quite the project. And it left me laughing hysterically.
My Squishy
We never managed to come up with a good name for our room. We had some good material to work with: out initials are the first two letters of the alphabet. But nothing came. There was similar situation with this layout: I couldn't really think of anything to say about it. That may be because I'm tired and feeling a whole mix of emotions that I didn't know could co-exist in a person. Or it may be because my friendship with my roomie is beyond description. I'll let you decide :)
31 October 2012
Stinging Injustice
I was victim to two acts of injustice today. Both came from the same person. The sunshiny, happy, but law-abiding, lawsuit-fearing HR lady.
The first offense concerned the Halloween costume contest. I went to work as a gypsy today. I had bells around my ankles and neck, a colorful, floor-length silk skirt, hoop earrings, ornate scarves, bangles, etc. I didn't put any effort into it - one of my coworkers provided me with most of the stuff - and I didn't expect to win. I wasn't even going to bother participating very much.
When I went down for my lunch, I inadvertently found myself smack dab in the middle of the costume parade. I was stuck in a mass of people. Figuring that I should make the best of an awkward situation, I danced and waved like a good little gypsy around in the circle. The judges ate it up - everyone else was marching somberly.
I still didn't think I'd win. Without giving it a second thought, I went up to cover the receptionist's lunch break. She mentioned that the judges had been up there discussing the winner and for the individuals, they unanimously picked "the cute gypsy girl." I was surprised and rather pleased... until I heard that the HR lady had vetoed their decision.
Huh?
It was all in the name of preventing strife among the employees. You see, I am a temp. According to somemenopausal, cranky pants women people, since temps are not company employees, they are not entitled to win any company contests... or even eat company-provided meals. It was too risky to announce that the winner of the company costume contest was a temp. Horror of horrors, right?
Anyway, so I didn't win. I didn't get anything. Not that I expected anything... but I should have won. That makes me feel good on the inside. Missing out on the $200 Visa card because I'm not a permanent employee... that doesn't make me feel so good on the inside. Oh well.
The second injustice is the reason that I am able to bring this blog post to you so early in the day. You see, I have a tendency to pass out. If you know me, you also know that this is very, very normal. Not a big deal. Give me a few minutes, I'll be up and moving. Well, I passed out yesterday and today. The HR lady flipped out. Not my boss, not my supervisor... the HR lady. And she sent me home. She asked if someone could pick me up. I explained that my mom could get there in about 20 minutes, but I would be fine in five or ten. I insisted that I was fine. But she wouldn't let me stay. She nearly ordered me out of the building. I had work to do. Money to make. But no. She made me leave because she's afraid of liability.
So much injustice. Just because I'm me. How is this fair???
Happy Halloween.
The first offense concerned the Halloween costume contest. I went to work as a gypsy today. I had bells around my ankles and neck, a colorful, floor-length silk skirt, hoop earrings, ornate scarves, bangles, etc. I didn't put any effort into it - one of my coworkers provided me with most of the stuff - and I didn't expect to win. I wasn't even going to bother participating very much.
When I went down for my lunch, I inadvertently found myself smack dab in the middle of the costume parade. I was stuck in a mass of people. Figuring that I should make the best of an awkward situation, I danced and waved like a good little gypsy around in the circle. The judges ate it up - everyone else was marching somberly.
I still didn't think I'd win. Without giving it a second thought, I went up to cover the receptionist's lunch break. She mentioned that the judges had been up there discussing the winner and for the individuals, they unanimously picked "the cute gypsy girl." I was surprised and rather pleased... until I heard that the HR lady had vetoed their decision.
Huh?
It was all in the name of preventing strife among the employees. You see, I am a temp. According to some
Anyway, so I didn't win. I didn't get anything. Not that I expected anything... but I should have won. That makes me feel good on the inside. Missing out on the $200 Visa card because I'm not a permanent employee... that doesn't make me feel so good on the inside. Oh well.
The second injustice is the reason that I am able to bring this blog post to you so early in the day. You see, I have a tendency to pass out. If you know me, you also know that this is very, very normal. Not a big deal. Give me a few minutes, I'll be up and moving. Well, I passed out yesterday and today. The HR lady flipped out. Not my boss, not my supervisor... the HR lady. And she sent me home. She asked if someone could pick me up. I explained that my mom could get there in about 20 minutes, but I would be fine in five or ten. I insisted that I was fine. But she wouldn't let me stay. She nearly ordered me out of the building. I had work to do. Money to make. But no. She made me leave because she's afraid of liability.
So much injustice. Just because I'm me. How is this fair???
Happy Halloween.
26 October 2012
Stuff
I am such an undisciplined blogger. I do apologize.
Things have been pretty quiet around here. Just the same ol' same ol'. I'm ok with that, though. Here's some random facts about my life:
I made my very first divorce card this week. Not really my specialty, but a good friend from work's divorce was finalized and I bought her a bottle of wine to celebrate. If that's even the right word. I wasn't very... verbose. What do you say on such an occasion? I went with Mum's suggestion of "Onward and Upward." That's all it said. Oh, and my name. I made the front pretty with a doily and ribbon and such things. Not really my specialty. I hope it isn't a task I have to repeat.
I'm going to visit my dear, darling friend Augusta this weekend. My train leaves at oh dark thirty tomorrow morning. You know I must love her if I'm sacrificing my Saturday morning sleep-in to get an extra five hours with her. So excited to spend time with this girl.
We have an iMac. Yay! Pretty pretty.
In the two confirmation classes we've had, we've talked about gay marriage and contraception. We weren't really supposed to be talking about those things, but the kids brought them up and really wanted to talk about them. And we couldn't leave these things hanging. After all, they thought that Catholics hated gay people and that the solution to abortion was birth control. Oh boy. They also seem to be an odd mixture of excited/awkward about the fact that they have to talk to their catechists about s e x for six weeks next semester. Ha!
My boss-boss amuses me. He says funny things.
"Next time you pass out, can I please call 911? It's for your own good... they might be cute."
So does my mama.
"Whatever you do, don't forget your shirt. I mean, your medicine. Though the other thing would be bad too."
Oh, and I had this strange conversation with my boss-boss this morning.
him: "Perception is reality."
me: "Uh, I don't think so. Reality is reality."
him: "No, reality is what you perceive it to be."
me: "I am not Cartesian, thank you very much."
him: "Carty-what?"
me:"Cartesian. As in Descartes. The philosopher."
him: "What's that?"
Sometimes I feel so alone in the accounting department...
Things have been pretty quiet around here. Just the same ol' same ol'. I'm ok with that, though. Here's some random facts about my life:
I made my very first divorce card this week. Not really my specialty, but a good friend from work's divorce was finalized and I bought her a bottle of wine to celebrate. If that's even the right word. I wasn't very... verbose. What do you say on such an occasion? I went with Mum's suggestion of "Onward and Upward." That's all it said. Oh, and my name. I made the front pretty with a doily and ribbon and such things. Not really my specialty. I hope it isn't a task I have to repeat.
I'm going to visit my dear, darling friend Augusta this weekend. My train leaves at oh dark thirty tomorrow morning. You know I must love her if I'm sacrificing my Saturday morning sleep-in to get an extra five hours with her. So excited to spend time with this girl.
We have an iMac. Yay! Pretty pretty.
In the two confirmation classes we've had, we've talked about gay marriage and contraception. We weren't really supposed to be talking about those things, but the kids brought them up and really wanted to talk about them. And we couldn't leave these things hanging. After all, they thought that Catholics hated gay people and that the solution to abortion was birth control. Oh boy. They also seem to be an odd mixture of excited/awkward about the fact that they have to talk to their catechists about s e x for six weeks next semester. Ha!
My boss-boss amuses me. He says funny things.
"Next time you pass out, can I please call 911? It's for your own good... they might be cute."
So does my mama.
"Whatever you do, don't forget your shirt. I mean, your medicine. Though the other thing would be bad too."
Oh, and I had this strange conversation with my boss-boss this morning.
him: "Perception is reality."
me: "Uh, I don't think so. Reality is reality."
him: "No, reality is what you perceive it to be."
me: "I am not Cartesian, thank you very much."
him: "Carty-what?"
me:"Cartesian. As in Descartes. The philosopher."
him: "What's that?"
Sometimes I feel so alone in the accounting department...
17 October 2012
BABY!!!
Thaaaat's right, folks! My dear, dear, dear friends had their first child today!!! A little boy. I am distracted with happiness. I cannot stop GRINNING. I'm "Auntie Bagel." HA! I am so excited and happy for them!!!!!!
Welcome to the world, Daniel!!!
Welcome to the world, Daniel!!!
16 October 2012
Military Love
Crickey. It's been a while.
In the past couple of weeks my life was turned upside-down, shaken violently, and then put back. Kind of like a snow globe. My brain kind of resembled that blizzard. The little fluttery pieces are falling back into place, though. They move slowly, suspended as they are in some sort of watery substance, but gravity wins out in the end.
Geez. I got excited about that metaphor. Moving on.
I would love to show you a new layout... but I ran out of adhesive. I know. TRAGEDY. I was in the middle of a layout and POW, no more adhesive. Tears were shed.
So what I will do is tell you about the MCAS Miramar Airshow. It was on Saturday. It was fantabulous. There were loud, fast airplanes, big guns and explosions, paratroopers falling from thousands of feet up in the air...
... and cute men.
EVERYWHERE.
The last time I went to an airshow, I was 17. For some reason, the fact that there were cute, young, in-shape, uniformed men every five feet didn't make an impression. But it did this year. Oh man. Talk about a target-rich environment. I was so besottedly happy.
I spent most of the dayflirting with talking to them. There was the Osprey pilot from Sacramento and the helicopter crew captain from Indiana. Then there were all of the men from the local battalions and squadrons selling stuff to raise money for their events. I may or may not have bought not one, but two, hoodies. One of which is an XL... it's huge. But I couldn't say no. How could I? The Death Rattlers are cool!
I should, however, consider more carefully the relative lengths of my hoodies and dresses before I combine them. Ha!
One of my favorite moments of the day was right at the beginning. The guy who was manning the metal detector at the gate asked me, "You want to go to Sea World? Six Flags? We can go anywhere you want, girl."
I love Marines.
In the past couple of weeks my life was turned upside-down, shaken violently, and then put back. Kind of like a snow globe. My brain kind of resembled that blizzard. The little fluttery pieces are falling back into place, though. They move slowly, suspended as they are in some sort of watery substance, but gravity wins out in the end.
Geez. I got excited about that metaphor. Moving on.
I would love to show you a new layout... but I ran out of adhesive. I know. TRAGEDY. I was in the middle of a layout and POW, no more adhesive. Tears were shed.
So what I will do is tell you about the MCAS Miramar Airshow. It was on Saturday. It was fantabulous. There were loud, fast airplanes, big guns and explosions, paratroopers falling from thousands of feet up in the air...
... and cute men.
EVERYWHERE.
The last time I went to an airshow, I was 17. For some reason, the fact that there were cute, young, in-shape, uniformed men every five feet didn't make an impression. But it did this year. Oh man. Talk about a target-rich environment. I was so besottedly happy.
I spent most of the day
I should, however, consider more carefully the relative lengths of my hoodies and dresses before I combine them. Ha!
One of my favorite moments of the day was right at the beginning. The guy who was manning the metal detector at the gate asked me, "You want to go to Sea World? Six Flags? We can go anywhere you want, girl."
I love Marines.
30 September 2012
Blog Your Heart, September
I've never done one of these before, but I felt inspired by my new hero. And these days I have a lot on my heart. Maybe none of it is that important, but the pile of little things makes it necessary to remind myself to keep breathing and put one foot in front of the other. I can do this.
If you don't know the "rules," you can follow the link above to Stephanie's blog where she's listed the rules along with her BYH post. :)
1. I don't have any local friends... and this makes me sad. I have a lot of friends... but they're all up at school or moved away to other parts of the country... or, in some cases, Europe. I have the young adults from the parish, but I'm not close to any of them. I have what Aristotle would call "friendships of pleasure" - I enjoy their company, but it doesn't go beyond that. It feels shallow and dry... at least for now. Maybe after I've been here longer, things will get better. Trying to live with hope over here.
2. I hate my job. Ok, maybe that's too strong. I dislike my job. I don't find fulfillment in it or look forward to it. It's mind numbing repetitive tasks that don't require any brain power. I tested this by listening to music while I did it the other day... and I could do it just as quickly. I always did homework with music, but it definitely slowed me down a bit. I wish I could derive some pleasure from it... but no. *sigh*
3. I don't like having a pharmacy living in my stomach. I am on so many pills... all for hormonal imbalances. And I never wanted to be "that person." I know that sometimes prescriptions have to get filled, that it's not my fault, etc. I know all of the "right answers." I just don't like it. I don't like needing help. I like... helping.
4. I miss my best friend. This one's a long story, but it's probably the #1 thing on my heart and mind right now. I just miss him. I feel like I'm walking around with a large part of me missing. And it hurts. I don't see this changing... the definition of stupidity is to do the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result. So I'm trying to stop missing him... but as soon as I think about it at all, I start crying. Honestly... it would be easier if I could be mad at him.
5. Grad school scares me. Driving scares me. Life scares me. Apparently, that has something to do with my hormonal imbalances, but it's an unpleasant feeling. Everything scares me.
6. On a positive note, I love scrapbooking. It's my new outlet to relax and have some quiet time. It doesn't really require thinking, so it allows for some quiet, non-stressed time. I just focus on the task at hand... and then I'm happy. :)
That's all I can think of at the moment. Happy Sunday!
If you don't know the "rules," you can follow the link above to Stephanie's blog where she's listed the rules along with her BYH post. :)
1. I don't have any local friends... and this makes me sad. I have a lot of friends... but they're all up at school or moved away to other parts of the country... or, in some cases, Europe. I have the young adults from the parish, but I'm not close to any of them. I have what Aristotle would call "friendships of pleasure" - I enjoy their company, but it doesn't go beyond that. It feels shallow and dry... at least for now. Maybe after I've been here longer, things will get better. Trying to live with hope over here.
2. I hate my job. Ok, maybe that's too strong. I dislike my job. I don't find fulfillment in it or look forward to it. It's mind numbing repetitive tasks that don't require any brain power. I tested this by listening to music while I did it the other day... and I could do it just as quickly. I always did homework with music, but it definitely slowed me down a bit. I wish I could derive some pleasure from it... but no. *sigh*
3. I don't like having a pharmacy living in my stomach. I am on so many pills... all for hormonal imbalances. And I never wanted to be "that person." I know that sometimes prescriptions have to get filled, that it's not my fault, etc. I know all of the "right answers." I just don't like it. I don't like needing help. I like... helping.
4. I miss my best friend. This one's a long story, but it's probably the #1 thing on my heart and mind right now. I just miss him. I feel like I'm walking around with a large part of me missing. And it hurts. I don't see this changing... the definition of stupidity is to do the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result. So I'm trying to stop missing him... but as soon as I think about it at all, I start crying. Honestly... it would be easier if I could be mad at him.
5. Grad school scares me. Driving scares me. Life scares me. Apparently, that has something to do with my hormonal imbalances, but it's an unpleasant feeling. Everything scares me.
6. On a positive note, I love scrapbooking. It's my new outlet to relax and have some quiet time. It doesn't really require thinking, so it allows for some quiet, non-stressed time. I just focus on the task at hand... and then I'm happy. :)
That's all I can think of at the moment. Happy Sunday!
26 September 2012
Titleless, Even
A mostly wordless post about a titleless layout. Nothing was coming to me. So I just embellished it like crazy. Bahaha!
Have I ever mentioned how much I love scrapbooking? and my big brother superhero? and doilies???
23 September 2012
Wordless
I'm too tired to use words. So I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.
But "Queen on Screen" was so epically 80s... definitely worth the brain-dead state in which it left me.
And in case you were wondering, I did this layout before watching a Queen concert on the big screen and sitting in Charger's game traffic. Just on the off-chance that wasn't self-explanatory.
But "Queen on Screen" was so epically 80s... definitely worth the brain-dead state in which it left me.
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